


Chained

by Eilera



Series: This Isn't a Procedural Cop Show [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Brainwashing, Dorks in Love, Drama, Drugs, Dubious Interrogation Tactics, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gangs, Humor, Kidnapping, Lance And Matt's Drama Theatre, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oh Look The Galra Still Suck, Shatt, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Torture, Undercover, You Bet Your Ass Everyone Still Looks Good In A Police Uniform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-10-23 03:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17675714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilera/pseuds/Eilera
Summary: “You have reached the voicemail of Detective Takashi Shirogane of the 89th precinct. I can't come to the phone right no-"There was no way Shiro wouldn't tell him if he was going somewhere. All of his instincts screamed at him that something waswrong.(Direct sequel to 'Breakout' in which Shiro is living his worst nightmare and Matt will stop at nothing to find him.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally here! I am so sorry for the long wait! I was struggling with this one big time. Kind of screwed myself over with that cliffhanger last time. Guess that's my karma for doing that to you guys! :P 
> 
> This fic won't make much sense if you haven't read 'Fractured' and 'Breakout', the first two main installments of this series. 
> 
> New chapters will be posted every Wednesday. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Special thanks to [DeathByStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathByStorm/works) for beta'ing as usual.

_2 months ago_

“The target is approaching on your six. Are you two ready?”

Shiro watched from his perch in their surveillance van as Matt exhaled a huge puff of smoke from his vape. He was wearing an oversized, puffy, gold jacket and pants so baggy it was a miracle he wasn’t mooning the entire neighbourhood.

“I’m smokin’ this thing like it’s 2017, bae. YOLO.” Matt’s voice sounded in Shiro’s earpiece, pitched low so as not to carry. “Am I getting the young kids’ lingo right?”

“Dude, Shiro’s the wrong person to be asking,” Lance said from beside Matt. He was dressed head-to-toe in a blue jumpsuit, complete with high tops and a backwards baseball cap. He adjusted the basketball balanced on his hip. “He was born well into his fifties.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. Perhaps letting these two go undercover together was a mistake. They’d needed two people to pretend to be delinquent teenagers and there was no way Shiro could have pulled that off. Keith would have been an obvious choice, but he was not very good at going undercover…

_Several years ago…_

_“Okay, let’s hear about your personas,” Shiro said, nodding to Lance._

_Lance struck a_ _debonair pose. “My name is Dante. I’m a badass, motherfucking mercenary from the deepest, darkest pits of Balmera. I became a_ _mercenary to feed my drug habit…and to save my sister from the pole.”_

_“Very nice,” Matt grinned, nodding._

_“Good job, Lance. Keith, what’s your name?”_

_Keith blinked, confused. “My name is Keith.”_

_“No, no, no, your character’s name. For the mission?”_

_“…Keith.”_

Yeah, they learned pretty quickly not to put Keith undercover.

“Alright, he’s about to ‘round the corner,” Shiro said, shifting so he could see a bit better.

“Lights, camera, action,” Matt murmured, sounding way too pleased.

Oh, dear god. This was another episode of Lance and Matt’s Drama Theatre, wasn’t it?

Matt crouched down on the dirty sidewalk, letting his hands rest casually over his knees as he blew another enormous gout of smoke into the air. He looked ridiculous, like the giant jacket was going to swallow him whole. Lance started bouncing his basketball erratically, clearly not as good with it as he was with a soccer ball.

This was a mistake.

Shiro’s whole life was a mistake.

The target and his two cronies rounded the corner, pausing to survey the two ‘teens’. Shiro sized them up, noting the way the two beefy goons held themselves. They were definitely brawlers but not professionally trained. The one to keep an eye on was the leader. They didn’t know his real name, just his underworld nickname ‘Beta Traz’. Word on the street was that he was one of the big dealers for a new type of drug the Galra were distributing.

“Which one of you is Chad?” Beta Traz asked, arms crossed.

Matt stood up slowly, hiking up his pants like a toddler. “’Sup. I’m Chad, and this is my bro, Melvin.”

Lance stumbled, nearly getting brained by his basketball as it bounced back towards him.

“Matt…” Shiro warned, though he couldn’t keep the amusement from his voice.

Lance threw the ball at Matt, his pinpoint accuracy nailing Matt right in the back of the head and nearly sending his vape flying. “Don’t give them that fucking name, dipshit!” He looked back at the others. “I go by my middle name,” Dramatic pause. “Alejandro.”

Matt coughed on his vape.

Shiro contemplated early retirement.

“Right,” Beta Traz said slowly, brows furrowing. “My boy Branko said you little shits were looking for me. You looking to get set up?”

Matt looked at him suspiciously. “Yo, dawg, how do I know you ain’t with the popo?”

“Yeah, man, we like livin’ that hashtag free life, you know what I’m saying? Stayin’ woke.” Lance added, giving some weird gang sign.

Shiro put his face in his hand. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have allowed them free reign on urban dictionary.

“Either you want this shit, or you don’t. I don’t have time to listen to you two talk shit.”

Matt puffed out an enormous gust of smoke, somehow managing not to choke on it. Shiro was kind of impressed. “We don’t want any of that kindergarten snack time shit. I’ll yeet that into the motherfucking stratosphere. We’re looking for the good swag. You got any of that quintessence?”

Beta Traz froze, looking at them with renewed interest. “Yeah, maybe I could hook you up. It’ll cost you, though.”

Lance jutted his chin out like some cheesy gangster. “We got the Gs.”

Beta Traz looked between them, gauging…something. Shiro wasn’t sure what. After a moment, he nodded. “How much do you need?”

Matt dug into the inside pocket of his puffy jacket, pulling out a roll of bills. They totaled twenty-five hundred dollars, courtesy of the Altea Police Department. “Will this do?”

Beta Traz grinned, taking the money from Matt and opening the roll to inspect the cash. “This’ll do. You guys are in for a good time.”

Shiro focused his binoculars in on Beta Traz as he pulled out two small vials of bright blue liquid. It almost looked like it was glowing. This definitely looked like the real deal. After the last couple of failed attempts, Shiro hoped it was true.

“Noice,” Matt smirked, taking the two vials and passing one to Lance. “This is exactly what we were looking for. We’re gonna get rekt.”

Lance nodded, slipping his vial into the inside pocket of his sweater. When he pulled his hand out, a gun came with it. “Alright, put your hands up!”

Matt had his own gun out in seconds, but the two goons were already moving. Lance kicked the basketball, nailing one of the goons right in the face. The man fell back with a pained grunt, head smashing into the brick wall behind him before crumpling to the ground. The second grunt threw a punch at Matt and he ducked, slamming his bony shoulder into the man’s stomach.

Shiro was already getting out of the van, tearing down the road as Beta Traz ran for it. He was surprisingly fast considering his bulk. Shiro tore past Matt and Lance. Matt had the second man on the ground, securing handcuffs to his wrists cheerfully.

“I’m in pursuit!” Shiro called out.

“Go get ‘im, love muffin!” Matt yelled and Shiro rolled his eyes fondly.

He barrelled around a corner, hot on Beta Traz’s tail as the other man glanced over his shoulder.

“Fuck off!” Beta Traz yelled, ducking down a tight alley.

Shiro followed, gun ready. He just managed to catch a door closing to an abandoned shop, the windows boarded up as it awaited resale. Carefully, he made his way to it, pulling the door open while staying to the side in case Beta Traz tried to attack him from the other side. There was no one there.

Shiro activated his radio. “I need a team to surround the abandoned shop on the corner of Main Street and 124th. Suspect has entered and is presumed armed and dangerous.”

“Copy that.” Keith’s voice sounded.

Shiro slipped into the building, ears listening intently as he crept down the hall. The old building creaked and groaned around him, making it difficult to tell if someone was causing the noises or if it was just the building shifting and settling.

As he neared the main entry, a faint flicker of light sent alarm bells clanging in his head and he jumped back on instinct, narrowly missing getting brained by a dusty plank of wood. Instead, the board hit his hands, sending a jolt of pain through him and knocking his gun to the floor. Beta Traz growled as he pulled back for another swing, but Shiro’s prosthetic fist grabbed the plank, stopping it short. The wood crumbled beneath the enhanced strength of his arm.

Beta Traz launched himself at Shiro, shoving him roughly into the wall. Shiro’s head smacked against the brick with a dull thud, but he ignored the pain, gritting his teeth as his knee sunk into the other man’s belly.

Beta Traz doubled over, coughing. He looked up at Shiro and for the first time seemed to actually _see_ him. His eyes widened in shock. “How did _you_ get here?”  

Shiro frowned, confused. Before he could say anything, a blurry form jumped past Shiro, knocking into Beta Traz _hard_ and sending them both to the ground. Shiro quickly snatched up his gun, turning to see Matt pinning Beta Traz to the floor.

“Matt, what are you doing?”

“Saving your beautiful ass, baby.”

“Okay, but you’re not wearing any pants.”

Matt glared at him. He was still wearing his puffy gold jacket, but instead of the baggy pants his outfit was completed with a pair of NASA print boxers.   

“Well I couldn’t run in those stupid gangster pants, now could I? Just about tripped and ruined my handsome face running in them.”  

Shiro gave him a pained look.

“Don’t worry about it, beefcake. Just help me with this asshole.”

Shiro shook his head, helping Matt pull the drug dealer to his feet.

Matt patted Beta Traz on the shoulder. “Let’s go have a little chat, shall we?”

\---------------------------------------------------------

“This certainly looks like it could be the real thing.”

Matt watched as Allura stared closely at the vial, brows furrowed. She held it up to the light, twisting it from side to side.

“I know our reports indicated it glowed, but I never suspected it to be quite this bright.”

Matt leaned forward, bracing his arms on the back of one of Allura’s office chairs. “A brightness outshone only by your beauty, Princess.”

Allura’s blue eyes snapped to him in warning. “There’s an empty jail cell with your name on it, Holt.”

Shiro coughed quietly into his hand, clearly hiding a laugh.

Allura handed the vial to Shiro. “I want you boys to interrogate this…Beta Traz. See what info you can get out of him. I’m willing to offer him a deal if he’ll talk. Give one of the vials to Romelle. She can get it to the labs for testing.”

Shiro got up from his chair as Matt made for the door.

“Oh, and Holt?”

Matt froze, sensing danger.

“Don’t forget to return that twenty-five hundred dollars to the department.”

Dammit. She was too smart for him.

Matt gave her an affronted look. “I would _never_ -”

“I’ll make sure it gets there,” Shiro interrupted smoothly, practically dragging Matt from the room.

God, he was so strong.

“Romelle, can you get this to the lab?” Shiro asked, stopping by the receptionist’s desk just outside of Allura’s office. “We need it rushed.”

Romelle hopped out of her seat, always full of energy and enthusiasm. Allura had hired her as a receptionist/assistant as soon as she was able to work, and the woman had proven to be hard working and a calming point of contact for victims that were nervous around police officers. Plus, she often kept candy at her desk, so she was automatically very high up on Matt’s list of awesome people.

“I’ll get it there for you right away, Sergeant!” She saluted with the wrong hand, carefully taking the vial.

She was adorable.

Hunk leaned back in his chair nearby, inspecting the vial Lance had brought in. “I just gotta say, I’m really glad you guys were able to get this. I was so worried they were going to shut down the task force if we didn’t come up with _something_.”

Matt could admit he was relieved as well. They’d been hunting down the Galra and this drug for a month now. Lotor and Haggar were running a tight ship, they always seemed to be one step ahead.

“Do you guys need any help interrogating the perp?” Pidge asked, looking far too eager at the prospect.

“We should be fine,” Shiro assured, glancing over at Matt. “Good cop or bad cop?”

Matt grinned, patting him gently on the cheek and receiving an annoyed glare in return. “As much as I love being bad-”

“Bad influence, maybe.”

“It’s all the same, baby cakes,” Matt winked. “But I think we should go with tactic sixteen.”

Shiro considered him. After a moment, he smiled. “I think you’re right.”

“I’m _always_ right.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

“The time is now…0932 and-”

Shiro cleared his throat. “2132.”

Matt blinked. “Oh, uh, 2132. We are here regarding today’s drug bust and the capture of drug dealer, Beta Traz. Or should we call you…Jo…how the fuck do you pronounce this?”

“Joe-a-kim,” Shiro said.

“Joe-a-kim.”  

Beta Traz, whose real name had been revealed by his fingerprints as Joaquim Dos Santos, glared at Matt as he sat down in the chair across from him. Shiro stayed standing, arms crossed as he surveyed the drug dealer.

“That’s not how you say it and I’m not talking without a lawyer.”

“Oh no, Shiro. He’s not talking without a _lawyer_.”

“Sounds guilty to me.”

“Suuuuper guilty.”

“You already caught me selling drugs. Of course, I’m guilty.”

Matt tapped his finger on the edge of the table. “I’m glad we’re in agreement. So, let’s just cut to the chase: who is your supplier?”

“Santa.”

“Playing hard to get, big guy?” Matt leaned back in his chair. “That’s fine. We’ve got some tricks up our sleeves, don’t we, Shiro?”

“Tricks and treats.”

“Oh man, I could totally go for a Ding Dong right now.”

Shiro shook his head. “I don’t have any of those.”

Matt gave him a smarmy smirk. “ _Yeah_ , you do. Talkin’ ‘bout that _dong_.”

Beta Traz rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. “I didn’t expect the famed Champion to be like this. I’m kind of disappointed.”

“I get that a lot,” Shiro murmured, face blank. “Is that why you were surprised to see me in that warehouse?”

Beta Traz smirked. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Okay, that was strange.

Matt slammed his hands on the table but Beta Traz just gave him an unimpressed look. “Last chance, tell us what we need to know, and we’ll be lenient.”

Shiro cleared his throat and shook his head slightly.

“Okay, maybe not that lenient.”

Beta Traz remained silent.

“Alright. I didn’t want it to come to this but,” Matt paused, taking in a huge gulp of breath before releasing it in one long, high-pitched squeal. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…”

Shiro nodded beside him, gesturing at Matt like a model on The Price is Right.

“Stop!” Beta Traz yelled. “You guys are insane.”

Matt stopped with the squeal, it was hurting his throat anyway. “Not gonna tell us his name, huh? Guess it’s time to start guessing. Give us a name with an ‘A’, Shiro.”

“Abraham,” Shiro said seriously. 

Matt nodded along. “Yeah, Abrah-” He paused, turning to look at Shiro. “Seriously? Abraham?”

“What? It’s the first ‘A’ name that came to mind.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were doing names from 300BC. Let me just get my Book of Biblical Baby Names out, Jesus Christ.”

“It’s actually pronounced ‘Hey-zeus’.”

Beta Traz looked between them, lip curling in disgust.

Grumbling, Matt turned back to him, suddenly serious. “Brian. With an ‘i’.”

Shiro crossed his arms. “Charles.”

Matt leaned in closer to Beta Traz. “Daniel.”

Shiro put his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Wait. We’re assuming this supplier is a man. That’s not right.”

Matt considered him. “You’re right. I’m a feminist and I believe women can be scumbags too. So. Danielle.”

“Eugene.”

Matt grinned. “Fuck, I loved that movie.”

“That was a good one.”

“Are you two serious right now?” Beta Traz asked, confused.

“Oh, we’re deadly serious, amigo,” Matt whispered, getting right up in Beta Traz’s face. “Is it Francine?”

“Georgia?”

“Harry Pot-”

“This is going to take all day at this rate,” Beta Traz growled in annoyance.

“Or you could just tell us what we want to know.”

“I told you, I got nothing else to say about it.”

Shiro sat on the edge of the table. “Maybe we should tell him what kind of trouble he’s in?”

Matt leaned back in his chair. “Let’s see here, we’ve got possession of an illegal substance, drug trafficking, assault on a police officer, the list goes on and-” Matt cut himself off with a yelp as his chair nearly crashed to the floor. He flailed, managing to save himself. The chair slammed back onto all four legs with a startling bang as his folder fell to floor and vomited paperwork everywhere.

“Holy fuck, did you see that?” Matt gasped, clutching his chest in fright. “I felt my life flash before my eyes.”

Beta Traz’s eyebrows raised. He very nearly rolled his eyes.

Time to strike.

Shiro leaned in towards Beta Traz. “So, how long have you been working with the Galra?”

“I don’t kno-”

Matt cut him off. “Have you ever met Lotor?”

“What do-”

“What about Haggar?” Shiro interrupted.

“Let me fucki-”

“How often do you pick up a batch of quintessence?” Matt demanded.

“Every weekend.”

Shiro frowned. “Why don’t you know anything?”

“I swear to Go-”

“Clearly they don’t even trust you with th-”

“Macidus trusts me completely, dipshit. I’m not gonna let some idiot cops talk to me like they’re smarter than me.”

Matt leaned back in his chair. “Macidus, huh?”

Beta Traz paled.

Matt smirked as Shiro jotted down some notes in his folder. “Checkmate.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So, you went with ‘dumb cop, dumb cop’, huh?” Lance grinned, sitting on the edge of his desk. “That’s a tactic I’ve never seen before. I bet Matt was real good at it.”

Matt heaved a dramatic sigh. “It’s really hard for me to pretend to be stupid. I know it comes naturally to you, Lance, but a mind such as mine- _ah_!”

Shiro watched as Matt dodged a kick from Lance. As the two of them started making ninja jabbing motions at each other, Shiro turned to Pidge. “What do we know about this Macidus guy?”

Pidge scanned her computer screen, the reflection making it difficult to see her eyes. “Looks like he’s a nasty piece of work. Originally, he was employed in the FBI’s science lab when he got caught testing his experiments on prisoners. He escaped maximum security prison about five months ago.”

Shiro frowned. “Not long after Haggar and Lotor took off.”

“This doesn’t bode well. Who knows what’s in these vials and what kind of effect they’ll have on long-term users.”

“If the Galra are funding it, it can’t be good.”

“I’ll see what else I can dig up in the meantime. I’ll let you know as soon as-” Pidge cut off with a yelp as Lance kicked at Matt but accidentally hit her monitor instead, sending it crashing to the floor.

“Oh, shit, sorry Pidge.”

Shiro watched in amusement as the smallest detective grabbed her coffee mug and threw it at Lance, smacking him right in the back of the head and nearly sending him sprawling.

“Ow, fuck! Pid-” Lance broke off into a terrified whimper as Pidge glared at him, daring him to continue. “I-I mean, I’m so sorry! Let me get you another cup of coffee...milady.”

“Pathetic,” Matt scoffed while simultaneously trying to not-so-subtly hide behind Shiro.

“You guys brought this on yourselves,” Shiro smiled, stepping away from them and leaving them shieldless. He turned to Pidge. “Try not to make too much of a mess.”

Shiro headed back to his desk amidst the petrified squeaks of Lance and Matt.

\---------------------------------------------------------

“I’m home.”

Matt looked up from his phone, taking in the tired slump of Shiro’s shoulders. “How did it go?”

Shiro hung up his jacket, slipping out of his shoes and placing them neatly on the rack. “I still don’t like it, but I think it’s helping.”

Matt watched him pad towards the bedroom, taking off his shirt as he went. Shiro always came back from a therapy session looking drained. He’d stopped going for a long time, but after the last showdown with the Galra, he’d decided to go back to try and sort out the lingering issues. He was improving, Matt could see it, but it was still emotionally strenuous for Shiro every time.

Matt pushed himself up from the couch, tossing his phone onto the cushions before following his boyfriend into the bedroom. Shiro was shucking off his pants and Matt took a moment to admire the shifting muscles of his thighs. Matt would never get tired of looking at Shiro. He’d been staring at him for over twenty-five years and he still managed to send Matt’s heart racing.

As Shiro carefully tossed his pants into the laundry basket, Matt shuffled forwards, pressing up against Shiro’s back and curling his arms around his waist. He pressed a kiss to one tense shoulder, feeling the muscles loosen under his touch. Shiro’s sighed softly as his fingers settled on Matt’s wrists.

“I ordered some takeout. I didn’t feel like cooking anything and I don’t want to die of food poisoning if you cook.”

Shiro huffed out a laugh, softening further against Matt. “Haven’t managed to kill you yet.”

“That’s because I’m invincible. I’m never gonna die.”

“So, you’re a cockroach.”

“Fuck yeah, I’ll survive a nuclear bomb. That’s how badass I am.”

Shiro’s body shook against Matt’s as he suppressed a laugh. He turned his head so he could kiss Matt, slow and languid. Heat simmered just below Matt’s skin as Shiro opened his mouth for Matt’s tongue, a soft moan rumbling through him.

“M-Matt.”

Matt let his hands slide up Shiro’s chest, palms running over his nipples and causing Shiro to jerk at the sensation.

“Matt!” he yelped, even as his head fell back. Matt took the opportunity to suck at his throat. “The d-delivery…”

Matt hummed against Shiro’s skin. “I don’t care, you can just answer the door naked. I’d love to see that.”

Shiro groaned, fingers tightening on Matt’s wrists briefly before gently pushing them away. Matt didn’t fight it, grinning up at Shiro unrepentantly as the other man turned to look at him.

“I’m not traumatizing more innocent delivery drivers.”

Matt pouted. “Aw, c’mon, honey bunny-”

“No,” Shiro interrupted in mock sternness as he reached for his sweatpants. “We can’t alienate the people that bring us food.”

Matt sighed, watching all that delicious skin disappear as Shiro slipped into his pants. When he turned to reach for a t-shirt, Matt slapped his ass, grinning smugly as Shiro flushed.

“Alright, fine, I don’t want to share you anyway.” Matt sauntered back to the living room, snatching up his phone before throwing himself onto the couch. “What did you go over today?”

Shiro followed him, sitting on the floor in front of the couch near Matt. The genius couldn’t help himself, reaching out to run his fingers through Shiro’s hair. Shiro’s shoulders relaxed further as he tilted his head back, his eyes closed in bliss.

“Just…Sendak.”

Matt frowned, fingernails scraping lightly against Shiro’s scalp. No wonder Shiro was so wound up. “What about him?”

Shiro’s head settled on Matt’s chest, tension melting off him with every stroke of Matt’s fingers in his hair. “Krolia thinks I should visit Sendak’s grave.”

Matt paused. “Why?”

“Just…closure, I guess. A chance to say things to him I never got to say. I don’t know.”

It made sense. Sendak died before Shiro could really get a chance to confront him about everything that had happened.

“Could be a good idea. Want me to come with you?”

Shiro frowned.

“Hey, no pressure. Just thought I’d offer.”

Shiro’s eyes slid open, giving Matt a small smile. “I think I need to do this by myself. But thanks for the offer, babe.”

Matt’s face flushed crimson at the pet name and Shiro laughed.

It was a sound Matt never wanted to stop hearing.

\---------------------------------------------------------

_Present Day_

_“You have reached the voicemail of Detective Takashi Shirogane of the 89th precinct. I can't come to the phone right no-"_

Matt sighed as he pressed the end call button. He stared at his display. That was the twelfth time he'd tried to call Shiro with no answer.

Matt slumped against the cloth covered table, eyes roaming over the half-melted candles and the dinner that had long gone cold. His thumb rubbed against the soft velvet box in his pocket.

Of all the days for Shiro to break his normal routine…

He tapped his foot nervously. Part of him was having an absolute meltdown, terrified and certain that something had happened. Shiro always told Matt if he was going somewhere. Given their history, it was both to prevent Matt from panicking and to make sure someone knew where he was at all times.

Shiro hadn't sent him any messages.

Matt stared at his phone again. Was he overreacting? Calling your boyfriend twelve times over the span of two hours was excessive, wasn't it?

He kept trying to tell himself that, but the panic was increasing with every passing minute.

Behind him, the meteor shower in the night sky went unnoticed. He'd planned this day perfectly. Matt didn't consider himself the most romantic of people, but he knew Shiro was and he wanted tonight to be perfect.

He'd begged their apartment manager to let him use the greenhouse on the roof for a romantic evening. He'd made Shiro a kickass lasagna. Candles, soft music, shooting stars. It was perfect.

All that was missing was the most important piece.

_“You've reached the voicemail of Detective Takashi Shirogane of the 89th precin-"_

Matt glanced once more at the ruined dinner. There was no way Shiro wouldn't tell him if he was going somewhere. All of his instincts screamed at him that something was _wrong_.

He picked up his phone again, pulling up Pidge's number.

Where the hell was Shiro?

\---------------------------------------------------------

Shiro groaned. His mouth tasted disgusting, like he hadn't brushed his teeth in two weeks. He moved his hand to rub at his eyes only for something to jangle loudly and hold it back.

What?

He forced his eyes open, blinking in the dark. There was a familiar purple glow just light enough for him to see the walls surrounding hi-

Shiro’s heart froze.

No. Nononono what was going on? He couldn't-

He couldn't be back.

He scrambled to sit upright, fingers scraping in the dirt and grime beneath him. The room was so small he couldn't stretch out his legs, forcing him to bend them awkwardly.

A sob threatened to escape him, bubbling up with such intensity it might as well have been a scream.

He was back. Hewasbackhewasbackhewasback.

Gasping for breath, Shiro ducked his head so it was in between his knees. He tried to control it, in and out, in and out, shaking apart as the memories assaulted him.

He was supposed to be free of here. He was supposed to move on. Things were getting better, shit, it was taking a long time, but it was happening.

Had…had he ever even really left? Or was all of that just a hallucination brought on by the drugs?

Shiro slid his hand down his arm, heart jackhammering in his chest. He let out a relieved sigh as his fingers scraped along metal. He had his prosthetic. It wasn’t a hallucination.

He’d been captured again.

His head thumped hollowly as it bumped into the wall behind him. He was living his worst nightmare. He wanted to scream, to cry, to rage at a world where people like the Galra existed. He fought every day to make the world a better place and none of it _mattered_. Nothing fucking mattered.

Shiro sucked in a shaky breath, in for three, out for seven. His skin itched with the familiar, scratchy fabric of his prisoner’s outfit. Everything was the same. Nothing had changed and he was _trapped_. His counting spiralled away as panic rose once more, making it difficult to focus. It took over a _year_ to find him before. He doubted Lotor and Haggar would be as stupid as Zarkon.

What if-

What if he never escaped?

What if his next fight was his last?

What if-

“ _Matt_ …” Shiro whispered.

What if he never saw Matt again?

Tears splashed onto the dirty floor as Shiro struggled to breathe. How many more fights would he have to go through? How many more times would he stare death in the face and come out a winner?

As he slowly managed to regain control of his breathing, Shiro’s fingers loosened their tight grip on his knees.

In the end it didn’t matter. He’d learned long ago he’d fight as many as he had to to stay alive.

He just wasn’t sure how many more his soul could take.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Matt scanned the cemetery, heart pounding a nervous rhythm in his chest. Pidge stood beside him, flashlight in each hand as Keith crouched beside Kolivan with one of Shiro’s t-shirts.

“Why was Shiro at this cemetery?” Pidge asked, frowning at the cold graves surrounding them.

Matt watched as Kolivan sniffed at the t-shirt, tail wagging excitedly at the familiar scent of Shiro. “He was talking to Sendak.”

Pidge didn’t reply, lips pursed in grim understanding.

“He’s got something,” Keith murmured as Kolivan took off.

“Let’s go,” Pidge said, handing one of the flashlights to Matt as they followed the German Shepherd.

Matt clutched the flashlight tightly, peering through the gloom of fog. This was not the best time to be searching for evidence. It was dark, there was hardly enough light to see by, but dammit, he couldn’t just wait until morning. Thankfully Keith and Pidge hadn’t even questioned it when he’d called them.

Kolivan paused a few times, nose twitching as he sniffed at the frosty ground. It never seemed to take him long to pick up the scent again, bounding a few feet before pausing again. Eventually, he narrowed it down to one particular tombstone, circling around it twice before sitting down on his haunches.

“Good job,” Keith praised, passing him a treat as they surveyed the scene.

Sendak’s tombstone was plain and unmemorable. Just a name and two dates. Nothing to show what kind of monster was buried beneath their feet.

Matt wanted to smash it.

The grass around the grave showed signs of recent activity. It was bent down in spots, signifying footsteps. There was a large patch of matted grass that sent Matt’s heart into freefall. Something had been laying there…

“Matt!” Pidge gasped, kneeling in the grass to pluck something out of it. She’d put on a pair of latex gloves, digging in the grass to pull out…a ring?

“What is that?” Matt asked, crouching beside her to inspect it.

It was a beautiful ring made of gold and silver, entwined together in a simple design. Matt didn’t need to see the look of recognition on Keith’s face to know exactly what this ring signified. His throat went dry.  

“Shiro…” he choked, sinking into the grass, heedless of the frosty dew soaking into his pants.

Part of him had dared to hope that everything was fine. That Shiro’s phone had run out of battery for the first time ever and that his car had broken down or _something_. Instead, they were left with nothing but this ring, a ring meant to show Matt just how much he meant to Shiro. That their feelings for each other were eternal.

A sob tore its way out of his throat. Shiro was gone, again. Shiro was-

Pidge’s arms wrapped around him in a desperate hug. “We’re going to find him, Matt, I swear to you.”

Matt’s fingers tightened around the ring. “We know exactly who took him.”

He didn’t need to swear to anything.

He wasn’t stopping until he destroyed every last remnant of the Galra with his own bare hands. There would be nothing left of them by the time Matt was done. He would tear them apart to find Shiro.

The entire universe couldn’t stop them from being together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the angst train, ladies, gentlemen and everyone in between. Please keep your tickets on you during the ride. There are no stops, you're stuck here for the rest of this fic. :P 
> 
> I'm so sorry.


	3. Chapter 3

Shiro panted for breath, the muted screams of the spectators a background track to his waking nightmare. Across from him, another man was slumped against the cage wall, blood dripping onto the floor to pool at his feet.

Shiro hadn’t been given any weapons this time. Just pumped full of drugs and sent in with only his fists. Perhaps they felt Shiro had a slight advantage here with his metal prosthetic, so they’d given his opponent some brass knuckles.

The match had been going on for some time. Shiro didn’t know how long, but the effects of the fentanyl were wearing off, leaving him exhausted. His left eye was glued shut with dried blood, courtesy of a gash that had stopped oozing ages ago.

His opponent was worse off. Shiro was fairly certain he’d broken at least one rib with a brutal punch to the chest. His jaw was at an awkward angle, possibly dislocated. Blood was still dripping from his nose, and Shiro had seen him spit out at least one tooth.

Now, though, the man could hardly hold himself upright against the cage wall. Even as Shiro watched, he sunk down a bit further, strength waning with each passing second.

Shiro needed to end this, before the crowd got bored.

He took a step forward, then another, somehow managing to find the strength to run. The crowd roared in excited anticipation, the sound deafening.

Shiro’s opponent struggled to stand but he was too slow. Shiro descended on him, metal prosthetic flashing as it sped towards the man’s throat. With a sickening crunch, a horrifyingly familiar gurgle and a violent twitch, it was done.

“The Champiooooon!”

Shiro knelt next to the corpse swiftly cooling on the arena floor, reaching fingers trembling with an odd mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline to close the man’s bulging brown eyes. The crowd was beside itself, many of them on their feet. Their cheers reverberated around the large room. Shiro took a moment to scan for a chance to escape, but as usual there was nothing. His eyes landed on Haggar, sitting close to the arena but high up so she wouldn’t miss anything. Hate bubbled up in his chest like bile and his fingers curled into claws.

What he wouldn’t give to wrap them around her throat.  

Hands gripped Shiro’s biceps, pulling him to his feet. He stumbled, muscles uncooperative, but the men just tightened their grip and dragged him from the arena.

The announcer was already moving on to the next fight, but the doors closed before Shiro could catch their names.

He was thrown into a different cell than usual. This one was bigger, but still had no windows. The guards shackled his wrists to one wall before shuffling out of the room.

Shiro let his head fall back as the shaking gradually subsided. How many kills was that now? He’d lost count. Regardless of the number, it was too many. Too many lives lost to cruelty and greed.

He wasn’t sure how many days he’d been back here. It didn’t feel very long but he was only able to keep track of time by counting the number of meals and fights. A week? Maybe two?

Matt would be beside himself by now.

Shiro sighed, staring at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes. Matt wouldn’t rest until he found Shiro. The thought was both comforting and concerning. He remembered how Matt looked the first day Shiro woke up in the hospital after his first stint as the Champion. Matt had been so thin, so _small_. His personality was always larger than life but, in that moment, Shiro had been afraid to touch him, worried his murderous hand would break him.

He knew Matt hadn’t been sleeping, hadn’t been _eating_ while he searched.

He didn’t want Matt to go through that again.

Shiro was going to escape, he was going to break out of here and-

He twitched violently as the door crashed open, three guards dragging in another body. Shiro drew his knees up to his chest as the guards secured the man against the opposite wall, none of them bothering to glance at Shiro. As they pulled away, Shiro’s heart stopped.

Myzax.

The door clanged loudly as the guards left but Shiro didn’t hear it. He was too busy staring at yet another man who had brought Shiro and Matt so much pain and terror. Myzax was beat up pretty badly, blood still dripping from his temple. There was a gash on his arm, oozing blood just starting to harden into a scab. Bruises mottled his skin, leaving him nearly unrecognizable. But Shiro would recognize that face anywhere.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t-” Myzax cut off with a wet cough, spitting a gob of blood onto the floor. “The _Champion_.”

Shiro glared at him, pulse racing as anger seared through his skin. He strained against his bindings, but they held fast, keeping him pressed up against the wall, helpless to exact revenge.

Myzax stared at him, face stoic. After a moment he laughed, low and wet and incredulous. “Figures they’d put me in here with you.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Shiro’s voice was a dark growl full of promise.

Myzax tilted his head back as if too tired to hold it up. “I don’t doubt that. Killed by the ferocious Champion, the man who fucking ruined my life.”

Shiro’s brain short-circuited, unable to comprehend the sheer level of anger shooting through him.

“If you hadn’t of escaped with your little cronies, I wouldn’t have had to flee for my life,” Myzax said, voice layered with anger. “The Galra don’t accept failure. Victory or Death, that’s the Galra way. I spent _years_ in hiding, but the Galra are _relentless_.”

“I ruined your life?” Shiro interrupted, voice a quiet whisper that nevertheless carried in the muted room. “ _I_ ruined _your_ life?” He repeated, voice picking up in intensity.

“I’ve been fighting here for five months-”

“ _I WAS FIGHTING FOR A FUCKING YEAR_!” Shiro roared, spittle flying from his mouth, but he didn’t care. He didn’t _care_. A dam had broken open and he couldn’t stop the emotions pouring out of it at an alarming rate. “You tortured my partner, tried to get us killed, picked fights with me constantly-“

“You weren’t Galra, you were just some fucking police officer pretending to be in the fucking Yakuza-”

“To stop you! You were capturing innocent people and throwing them into hell for the entertainment of others!” A cold laugh escaped Shiro’s lips, so dark he didn’t even recognize it as his own at first. “And now you get a taste of your own medicine.”

“I didn’t ask for this!”

“ _No one asks for this_ ,” Shiro hissed, muscles tense as he leaned as close to Myzax as the shackles would allow. “I’ve fought more people than you can possibly imagine. I’ve killed, I don’t know, hundreds. I’ve been stabbed and burnt and electrocuted. I watched a little girl _die_ , all because of _you_ and the Galra.”

“I didn’t fucking send you here!” Myzax snarled, fire blazing in his eyes.

Shiro shook with emotion, chains rattling softly. “I hope you live to fight a thousand battles so you can feel what it’s like. See what you helped create.” He swallowed thickly, eyes burning with unshed tears as he continued venomously. “I hope the memories haunt you at night. Victory or Death is the Galra way. You’ll pray for death before long. I hope I’m there to see it.”

They stared at each other, both panting heavily.

All at once the fight drained out of Myzax. He slumped against the wall, head drooping forward.

“I didn’t know,” he said, voice quiet, small. Broken.  

Shiro rested his forehead on his knees, lethargy sinking into his bones like lead. His outburst had left him weak, but at the same time he felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His body had been filled with poison and he’d just spat it all out. He wasn’t sure if Myzax was lying or not, but he couldn’t bring himself to care either way.

Myzax’s feet slid against the floor as he stretched out his legs. His feet almost touched Shiro’s.

“I just…I just want to go home,” Myzax murmured, his defeated voice an echo of Shiro’s deepest desires.

“…Me too.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

Matt rubbed his eyes as he stared at his computer screen, trying to sort out the blurry information displayed there. His eyes burned with strain, threatening to stay closed every time he blinked.

He hadn’t slept in two days.

Empty coffee cups littered his desk. His stomach was long past the point of rumbling, instead just clenching in pain, desperate for food.

What day was it?

Matt pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, the pressure lessening his headache slightly. He didn’t want to know what day it was. Each new day was a punch in the gut reminding him that Shiro had just spent another twenty-four hours in hell.

“Matt, I made you some soup.”

The tantalizing aroma of tomato soup wafted past his nose and his stomach tightened in hunger.

“Thanks, Hunk.”

The other detective carefully placed a thermos on Matt’s desk, warm brown eyes scanning the debris in concern. “When was the last time you slept?”

“It’s fine.”

“Not if you’re so tired you can’t concentrate on anything.”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Matt growled, a hint of warning steeling his voice as he lowered his hands.

Hunk frowned at him, visibly pulling himself together as his eyes narrowed. “No, you’re _not_ fine. You look like you slept in a dumpster and you smell like you haven’t showered in days. You need to take a break.”

“I’m not taking a break while Shiro is out th-”

Hunk slammed his fist on the table, knocking a few cups to the floor, startling Matt so much he nearly fell from his chair. “You won’t find Shiro when your brain is mush. Now, you’re going to eat that soup and these crackers I brought and you’re going to take a nap for _at least_ four hours or so help me I will force you to myself!”

Matt gaped at their sweet, cinnamon roll mom-friend. He’d awoken the momma bear. There was no escape.

“Hunk, I-” Matt paused as his work phone rang. He snatched it up, afraid of missing any news on Shiro. “APD, this is Matthew Holt.”

“Hello, this is a collect call from ALTEA CORRECTIONAL FACILITY. The caller is ‘oh my God, your phone number has three zeroes in it! There is a seventy-six point forty-two percent chance that-’. Would you like to accept this call? Press one for ‘yes’ or press two for ‘no’.”

Slav? Why in the world was Slav calling him from prison!? He was supposed to have his sentence reduced because he helped them out with Haxus. He was back in prison already?

Hunk crossed his arms, giving Matt his best look of judgement.

It was powerful, so Matt just closed his eyes in self-defence.

“Slav!”

“I-is this Matthew?”

“Yes, Slav, it’s Matt.”

“Matthew Holt?”

“Yes, Matt Holt. Just call me Matt.”

“Matthew, I’ve been trying to reach you for the last one hundred and ninety-seven hours. I only get one call a day and it’s only for nine hundred seconds! I am already down to eight hundred and one-”

“Get to the point, Slav!”

“It’s a catastrophe! Is Shiro with you?”

Matt grit his teeth. “Shiro is missing.”

“Oh, I knew it!” Slav cried and Matt could faintly hear the sound of Slav hitting himself with the palm of his hand. “This is a disaster! A soul-crushing calamity! I had hoped this was not _that_ reality but in forty-three point eighty-seven realties this happens! I-”

“ _Slav!_ ”

Slav squeaked in fright. A loud clatter burst through the headpiece and Matt winced. He must have dropped the phone. There was a rustle and some static feedback before Slav’s heavy breathing returned.

“Matthew, I overheard in the commissary that _The Champion_ was back in the arena!” Slav whispered, voice shaking with nerves. “Haxus and his cronies were taking bets on the fights. There is an eighty-eight point twenty-three percent chance that Haxus knows more.”

Matt swallowed, heart racing. He was simultaneously relieved and sickened. Knowing Shiro was still alive and fighting was great news but recognizing that Shiro was struggling through one of his worst nightmares was devastating.

“Slav, listen to me,” Matt said seriously, waiting as Slav sucked in an anxious breath and held it. “Keep your head down but I need you to listen for any more information.”

“Oh no, oh no, no, no, no. In sixty-six point six percent of realities, I _die_ before I reach forty! That’s three sixes, Matthew! It is an omen I cannot ignore!”

“Slav, I swear to God-”

“I’m running out of time! You didn’t hear this from me, Matthew!”

Click.

Matt groaned, letting his head thump into his desk softly.

“What was that?” Hunk asked, peering at him apprehensively.

Matt looked up at him. “I guess I’m going back to prison.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

The room spun slowly, like Shiro was laying on a roundabout in a children’s playground. Where was he? Why was it so dark?

“Shiro…ne…”

Shiro blinked sluggishly, even that slight movement exhausting. He could taste blood in his mouth but couldn’t remember if it was his or someone else’s. A brief wave of horror washed over him at the thought that he might have actually bitten someone, but it was gone before it could really sink in.

He was so tired.

“Shiro…ne!”

Darkness played at the edges of his vision, making it difficult to focus. His body was shaking, tremors running up and down, rattling his bones like an old, rickety rollercoaster. He couldn’t breathe, the acrid taste of bile rose in his throat, burning.

And then nothing.

“Shirogane!”

Shiro’s eyes snapped open. He shifted, muscles screaming in protest and he moaned as a spike of pain stabbed through his skull. His chains rattled loudly with his movements. Everything hurt and his mouth tasted like vomit.

“You fucking scared me.”

Shiro looked up at Myzax, taking in his pale skin and wide eyes. Shiro wrinkled his nose as he realized the vomit was on his own shirt, partially dried. Had he passed out?

“What happened?” He mumbled.

Myzax rolled his shoulders, shifting his legs into a cross-legged position. “They gave you too much. Didn’t fucking take into account your concussion.”

Concussion?

Too much?

Oh.

The guards had given him too much fentanyl as a reward for that last fight. He’d probably had a seizure and vomited on himself. He was lucky he was forced to sit upright, or he might have choked on it. The soreness in his thigh signified someone had dosed him with Narcan. He glanced up at Myzax, eyes questioning.

“I managed to get them here in time,” Myzax growled, refusing to look at Shiro.

They’d been sharing this cell now for at least a few weeks. Every once in awhile one of them would get dragged out, leaving the other alone and wondering if they’d come back. So far, they’d been lucky.

If someone had told Shiro a year ago that he’d be relying on Myzax to keep him alive, that they would be leaning on each other for support, he would have laughed in their face.

The fact of the matter was that they were both in a shitty position. They were fighting the same odds, against their will and weighted down by the danger.

They were in this together, whether they wanted to be or not.

Forgiveness was a long process. Shiro certainly wasn’t there yet, but he felt closer than he ever had before.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

Shiro didn’t want to die, but dying that way would have been…

“We need to get out of here,” Myzax declared, shoulders tense. “It’s only a matter of time before one of us falters. We have a better chance with the two of us.”

Shiro took a deep breath. He was hurting, they were _both_ hurting. Just last week Myzax had been dragged in, unconscious and bleeding. Did they really have the strength to get out?

The thought of trusting his fate to Myzax was uncomfortable. Shiro was never one to trust easily but…

It was only going to get worse from here. Waiting was not an option.

Maybe this was one more step towards recovery.

And one step closer to Matt.

“Let’s figure out a plan, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are gonna start ramping up here, folks. Hold on to your hats!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit late!

Matt’s eyes stared unmoving at the door.

Altea Correctional Facility hadn’t changed much since the time he and Shiro had last been there. It was still dark and dirty and depressing.

This time, however, he was just a visitor.

The door buzzed and two burly security guards walked in, Haxus in tow. Haxus took one look at Matt and groaned.

“Seriously?”

Matt kept his mouth shut for once as Haxus was led to the seat across from him and handcuffed to the table. The guards checked him over one more time before exiting the room. The door closed behind them with a loud clang.

Matt stared Haxus down, but the other man didn’t budge, face set in a bored mask. Alright, he wasn’t going to cave easily? That was fine.

Matt wasn’t leaving this room without answers.

He leaned back in his chair, smug smirk firmly in place. “Haxus, _baby_ , you’re looking much better than the last time I saw you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hmm, no thank you.” Matt leaned forward. “You wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

Haxus’ nose crinkled in disgust.

“I think we both know why I’m here. Why don’t you just tell me where he is, and we can both be on our merry way?”

“Your boyfriend is doing what he does best,” Haxus sneered. “Staying alive at the expense of others. And it’s making me a fortune.”

Matt nodded slowly. “I can see you don’t want to co-operate with me.”

“I really don’t.”

“That’s fine. Let’s talk about your crimes, shall we?” Matt leaned forward, pressing the record button on his phone before leaning back in his chair. “This is Detective Holt with the 89th precinct here in Altea Correctional Facility with prisoner 116-32466. The time is now 1123 hours on the 2nd of April.”

Haxus sighed, looking bored.

“Mr. Haxus, why don’t you tell me about your fellow prisoner, Mr. Jonathan Sniv?”

Haxus frowned. “What about him?”

“Why did you kill him?”

“What? I didn’t!”

“Are you trying to tell me you didn’t kill Mr. Sniv in cold blood in the kitchens?”

Before Haxus could reply, Matt’s hand darted out to pause the recording.

“I didn’t kill Sniv, he was-” Haxus blinked. “Did you just turn off that recording?”

Matt pressed the record button again. “Are you refusing to answer, Mr. Haxus?”

The recording device was paused again before Haxus could speak. “Stop that,” he growled, furious.

“This doesn’t look good for you, Mr. Haxus. Silence is just as damning,” Matt said calmly after turning the recorder on once more.

“This is bullshit!”

“For the benefit of the listener, Mr. Haxus is visibly agitated.”

“Of course, I am!”

“Tell me, Mr. Haxus, do you know this woman?” Matt asked, holding up a picture of Beyonce.

“Of course, I know-”

“For the benefit of the listener, I am holding up a picture of the victim’s wife, Mrs. Ladnok. She has admitted that she was having an affair with Mr. Haxus-”

“I don’t know what you-”

“Oh, so now you _don’t_ know who this is, Mr. Haxus?”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Changing your story like this is not going to help your case, Mr. Haxus.”

Haxus stared at Matt incredulously.

“Please take a look at these, Mr. Haxus. I am presenting you with evidence 12-A, what can you tell me about this?” Matt smirked, placing a small, empty picture frame on the table.

Haxus blinked at it. “A frame?”

Matt’s eyebrows raised. “Are you trying to tell me you’re being framed? These hand-written love letters are in your handwriting, Mr. Haxus.”

“That’s not-”

“My, my so many changes to your statements. You are certainly not presenting yourself well here.”

“Shut up! All of this is a lie!”

Matt stood up from his chair forcefully, letting it fall down to the floor with a loud clatter. “Sit _down_ , Mr. Haxus!”

Haxus stared at him disbelievingly, still seated in his own chair.

Matt slammed his hand on the table, nearly sending his phone to the floor. “Let the listener be aware that Mr. Haxus has tried to attack me-”

“I-”

“No, he’s escaping his chains! Guard!”

“I fucking-”

“Help!”

“ _Enough_!” Haxus snarled, leaning forward. “I’ll tell you what I know, if you just fucking _stop_!”

Matt paused.

“The Champion is being held in the new arena built by Haggar and Lotor. I don’t know its location-”

Matt rolled his eyes.

“ _-but_ I know where the money for it is going. It’s to a bank account under the name Garfle Warfle Snick Ltd. It’s some foreign restaurant they use for money laundering. It’s heavily protected by government level encryptions but if you can get access to it you might be able to trace the transactions. They always sell a shit ton of booze and food at the arena and betting is expected and encouraged there.”

Matt righted his chair, brushing imaginary crumbs from his clothes.

“Now that wasn’t so hard was it?”

Haxus glared at him. “Fuck off.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

Shiro hissed as a guard gripped his left bicep. He’d just barely dodged the arena trap, but the fire still seared his skin, leaving it raw. He’d just won another battle and was being returned to his cell.

Shiro scanned the empty hallway, eyes alert. He only had three guards. The fourth had been called away just as they left the arena. They hadn’t drugged him for this fight, but they probably would once they’d secured him in the cell. His hands were handcuffed behind his back, but that was it. This was the best opportunity he was going to get.

He couldn’t hesitate.

As the guards paused outside their cell door, one stepped away to unlock it and Shiro struck.

With a grunt he shoved all his weight into the guard on his left, knocking him into the wall _hard_. He whipped his leg in a sweeping kick towards the second guard’s face, the satisfying crunch of bone signifying a direct hit. The second guard crumbled like a burning piece of paper, knocked out in one hit.

The guard at the door reached for his radio, but Shiro charged him, ramming his shoulder into the man’s stomach. The guard wheezed, dropping his radio and slumping against the door. Before Shiro could follow-up, the first guard grabbed him, pulling him back and knocking him onto the floor. Shiro tucked his knees to his chest, wiggling enough to get his hands to the front of his body in time to block the guard’s next attack with his shackles.

Shiro trapped the man’s wrist in his chains, using that to pull the man to the ground. Shiro grabbed his head, slamming it into the floor once, twice, three times before the guard went still. He snatched up the man’s taser, whirling just in time to shoot the last guard in the chest. He went down shuddering, body still twitching here and there even after his muscles went slack.

“Shiro!” Myzax hissed.

Panting, Shiro struggled to his feet. The tasered guard had dropped the keys near the door and he started trying them one-by-one, fingers shaking with adrenaline and stress.

It took five tries to get the right key, but eventually the door swung open.  

“Hurry!” Myzax was straining against his bonds, keeping an eye on the door behind Shiro as he knelt next to him. Each wrong key sent Shiro’s heart pounding.

“Got it.” Shiro leaned back as the shackles fell away from Myzax’s wrists.

The other man flexed them briefly before snatching up the keys. Shiro only had a brief moment of alarm before Myzax was trying keys on his own shackles. Thankfully, the same key worked for both of them so Shiro was free in a matter of seconds.

“Let’s go,” Myzax whispered, moving to the door to peer outside.

“Just a second, pull those guards in here and close the door.”

Myzax blinked, confused.

“Less chance of them noticing unconscious guards on the floor.”

They dragged the unconscious guards into the room, relieving them of any weapons before locking it securely behind them.

Myzax pointed down the hall. “Their security room is just down that hall, we should go this way.” He said, nodding towards the left. “They brought me this way one time when they were switching up the cells. There was a window in the stairwell.”

Shiro nodded, making his way along the rows of cells. Each one contained some poor soul desperate for freedom. They didn’t have time to free everyone, but once they were out Shiro would come back and free them from this hell.

Sweat dripped down Shiro’s back as they crept down the hall. Every sound and every shadow sent his senses into overdrive, fear and apprehension leaving him exhausted.

They were halfway to the door at the end of the hall when a shadow fell across the nearby window. Myzax grabbed Shiro’s shirt, yanking him back and to the side into a small alcove of rags and cleaning supplies. Together, they squeezed themselves into a gap between a cabinet and the wall. Neither of them were small men, it was highly likely that an arm or a leg was sticking out, but it would have to do.

They held their breaths as the sound of footsteps drew nearer. They were so close together Shiro was certain Myzax would hear his pounding heart echoed in his own chest.

A voice drifted to them, getting louder as it got closer. “I wouldn’t put your money on The Rabbit. She got a nasty cut in her last fight and it’s gotten infected. I doubt she’ll last another fight.”

“Fuck, she was my lucky rabbit,” a second voice groaned as the two guards came into view.

Myzax, impossibly, pressed up against Shiro even more. They stilled, motionless as the guards paused nearby to peek into one of the cells. If they turned around, surely, they would see…

“Just do the smart thing and put your money on The Champion. Guaranteed win.”

“He’s bound to lose sooner or later. Plus, I don’t win as much with him!”

“You’re so fucking greedy.”

“Says you, asshole.”

The two men chuckled as they turned away from the cell. They didn’t even glance at the supply alcove, just continued down the hall casually.

Shiro and Myzax held their breaths, counting out the seconds like they were hours. After a moment, Myzax peered around the corner before signalling it was safe.

They made their way to the door and Shiro pressed his ear up against it, listening.

“Seems clear,” he whispered, tentatively trying the doorknob.

As expected, it didn’t budge, so he pulled out the keys and started trying to figure out which one it was. Myzax’s foot tapped anxiously, eyes scanning the hallway behind them as Shiro worked. Eventually, he got the right key and the door swung open with a loud creak. They both froze, but when there were no sounds of alarm, they relaxed.

They crept into the stairwell, closing the door behind them as quietly as possible.

“Down one flight,” Myzax murmured, leading the way down the stairs.

Shiro followed behind him, ears straining for any errant sounds that might alert them. It didn’t take long to find the window, but-

“Fuck,” Myzax swore, hands clenching into fists. The window was barred. “It wasn’t like this before!”

“An oversight they clearly took care of,” Shiro sighed, stepping around Myzax to inspect the window.

The bars were only a few inches apart, made of thick steel. It was unlikely anyone would be able to pull them off without the right tools. Except…

Shiro looked down at his metal prosthetic. Matt had designed it for him, and it was certainly stronger than it had any right to be. But was it strong enough for this?

“Keep an eye out.”

“What? Seriously? You can’t-”

Shiro gripped one of the bars, muscles straining as he pulled with all his might. His prosthetic whirred, louder than he’d ever heard it before. The steel groaned, bending slightly around his hand.

“Holy fuck.”

Shiro gasped as the bar came free, ripped right from the mount securing it in place. He stared at it blankly for a moment before handing it to a gaping Myzax. The man took it absently, closing his mouth slowly as Shiro turned to the next bar over.

This one groaned louder than the previous, a high-pitched squeal echoing up and down the stairwell as it pulled away. Myzax cursed, eyes darting around as-

A door somewhere along the stairwell opened. “What was that?” A voice asked above them.

“Keep going!” Myzax hissed, gripping the metal bar and pulling out one of the guns they’d pilfered.

Shiro reached for the next bar. Two more should make it wide enough for them to slip through.

Feet pounded down the stairwell, a Galra guard rounding the landing and coming into view. Myzax’s gun went off with a loud _bang_ and the Galra crumpled, falling down the stairs like a rag doll. Shiro’s muscles cried out with the strain as another bar screeched free. One more, just one more!

“Stop them!” Someone screamed and an alarm blared, sending the stairwell into a purple glow as the emergency lights flashed.

“Hurry it up, Shirogane!”

“I’m trying,” Shiro ground out between his teeth, straining to pull one more free.

Another bang reverberated through the stairwell, followed by a cry of pain. Another shot came immediately after, finishing off the injured guard. Footsteps were coming from below now as well, getting louder with each passing second.

They were running out of time.

Shiro braced his foot on the wall, pulling at the bar with all his might. It came free just in time for him to use it on a Galra guard coming up the stairs. The metal reverberated up his arm as it smashed into the man’s skull, sending blood splattering onto the wall.

“Get the window!” Shiro roared.

Myzax pointed his gun at the window, wincing as the glass shattered into a thousand tiny shards, raining down on the two of them.

“Go!”

Myzax didn’t wait to watch Shiro, he was already halfway out the window. From above a whole army of footsteps neared. Myzax hopped down with a grunt and Shiro clambered up behind him. They were about two stories up and he could already see Myzax had landed _hard_ , but he still had the sense to roll out of the way for Shiro.

“Stop!” Someone screamed, a gunshot sounding close behind Shiro, but he was already falling.

He tried to roll with his fall but didn’t quite manage it. Something snapped as he landed, sending a burst of pain though his body. He couldn’t control his momentum, head smacking into the ground with a loud crack.

The last thing he saw was Myzax’s anxious face before his world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Haxus.


	5. Chapter 5

Matt awoke with a start.

He was slumped awkwardly over his desk in his bedroom, the screen of his computer dark with sleep mode. He must have fallen asleep trying to hack into the records for Garfle Warfle Snick Ltd. Something woke him up though…what?

His phone buzzed, vibrating hard enough to skip over to his hand and bump against it.

Matt blinked at the screen. Altea General Hospital? Why were they calling him?

“Hello?” He mumbled, taking a moment to rub at his tired eyes. The movement felt like he was rubbing sandpaper against his eyelids and he winced.

“Hi, I’m looking for Matthew Holt?”

“Speaking.”

“Mr. Holt, I’m calling from Altea General Hospital. A man was brought in with a head injury and his records indicated you as his main contact-”

Matt’s lethargy vanished as he jumped up from his chair. “Shiro!?”

“Um, well, his ID said Takashi Shirogane?”

“I’m coming!”

“Oh, I-”

Matt hung up the phone, shoving paperwork and empty coffee cups onto the floor as he searched for his keys frantically.

Shiro.

He escaped!

As soon as his fingers wrapped around his car keys, he was running for the door, calling Pidge on autodial as soon as he was in his car.

“Matt?”

“Altea General, he’s there.”

Pidge didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll spread the word, see you there.”

Matt tore out of their parking garage, heart soaring at the thought that he was going to be seeing Shiro again. He turned on the lights and sirens, screeching around a corner in his haste.

He parked in one of the special police parking spots outside of emergency, only just barely remembering to lock it as he ran through the front doors. Thankfully there weren’t very many people in line to talk to the front desk and he wasn’t forced to wave his badge at anyone.

“I’m here for Takashi Shirogane.”

The tired nurse looked at her computer screen, typing in his name. “He’s in ICU, room 304. He just got out of surgery.”

Surgery?

It didn’t matter, so long as he was alive, everything was going to be okay.

Matt tore down the halls, not even bothering with the elevator. He took the stairs two at a time, hurtling through the doors and scaring an elderly lady with her walker.

He burst into room 304, panting.

Shiro was on the bed, eyes closed. His head was wrapped in clean bandages, the stark white of them making him look pale and sickly. His prosthetic was missing, leaving his right arm strangely empty. It didn’t matter, Matt had plenty of backups. Shiro seemed to be asleep, so Matt tentatively crept forward, sinking into the chair next to the bed and gently gripping Shiro’s hand. Relief mixed with an overwhelming amount of love washed through Matt, strong enough that tears tracked down his face.

Shiro was here. Shiro was safe.

Matt wasn’t going to go anywhere.

\---------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take long for Pidge and Keith to join him, soon followed by Hunk and Lance. The room was getting a bit crowded with all these people, but Matt was certain Shiro would be happiest seeing all of them once he woke up again.

“He somehow looks smaller in that bed,” Lance murmured, brushing some hair from Shiro’s face.

“He probably didn’t get much to eat while in captivity,” Pidge said, clinging onto Shiro’s other hand. “The Galra don’t seem to care about taking care of their prisoners.”

“I can’t wait until he wakes up so we can plan how we’re gonna take them down. For Shiro and everyone else forced to fight in those cages,” Hunk said fiercely, surprising Matt. He wouldn’t want Hunk coming after him, that’s for sure.

Keith rested his hand on Shiro’s foot, as if trying to reassure himself he was there. “Do you think-”

“Mmph…” Shiro groaned, eyes scrunching up into a frown.

Everyone froze, watching him with wide eyes as he shifted. It took him a little while, but eventually his eyes finally slid open. They widened at the sight of everyone in front of him.

There was a beat of silence before the room exploded into chaos.

“Shiro!” Lance and Hunk cried simultaneously, tears flowing down their faces.

“We’re so glad you’re okay!” Pidge smiled, eyes watery.

Keith patted Shiro’s foot, staring at Shiro intently.

“Welcome back,” Matt said softly, and Shiro turned to look at him.

“Everyone shut up, he just woke up!” Pidge yelled and everyone eventually trailed off into silence.

Shiro’s hand twitched in Matt’s grip.

“I…thank you.”

Everyone beamed at him, the mood in the room skyrocketing.

“I missed you,” Matt said leaning in closer to Shiro, intent on pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Shiro swallowed carefully, moving his head back. “I…who are you?”

Matt’s heart sunk somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. He stared dumbly at Shiro, taking in the confused eyes with no spark of recognition, no sign of that familiar glow he always got when looking at Matt.

The room was eerily silent, but Matt didn’t register it around his own shock.

This wasn’t happening.

This-

Matt was a genius. And yet, he couldn’t comprehend the words that had come out of Shiro’s mouth.

“What?” he asked stupidly.

“I-” Shiro cut off, eyes sweeping the room. “Do I know you guys?”

\---------------------------------------------------------

“It was a severe blow to the head,” Dr. Keaton said grimly, eyes scanning his chart. “I’m not surprised he has amnesia.”

“But-but he’ll remember stuff eventually, right?” Lance asked, voice small.

Matt felt Pidge’s small hand grab his, squeezing it tightly, but he couldn’t reciprocate.

Twenty-seven years. Shiro and Matt had known each other for twenty-seven years. Most of those years were spent constantly in each other’s company.

How could Shiro forget all of that?

How…how could that many memories be erased from someone’s brain?

“How did he get here?” Keith asked, fists clenched at his sides.

“Someone dropped him off here, we never saw who. The cameras in that parking lot weren’t working for some reason.” Dr. Keaton sighed, returning the clipboard to the little holder outside Shiro’s room. “As with any victim of amnesia, there’s a good chance he will remember. Any small thing can trigger a recall, so just don’t give up on him, okay? It can’t be easy forgetting all the people that are important to you.”

“No one is giving up on him,” Matt said, voice calm but devoid of emotion.

The others looked at him, concerned.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Dr. Keaton smiled, patting Matt on the shoulder. “We need to keep him here for some time. There are other injuries, signs of drug use, a couple of broken bones still healing, cuts that require stitches…remnants of torture. We’ve taken care of the worst of it but there’s a lot there.”

Matt’s heart clenched painfully at the reminder of what Shiro had to endure.

“The physical wounds will heal but I recommend therapy. He’s going to need it after what he’s been through.”

A feeling of déjà vu swirled around Matt. He’d been through this before, the first time Shiro had gotten away from the Galra. His wounds weren’t as severe this time but…

It didn’t matter.

Matt wasn’t going to give up on Shiro.

Not now, not ever.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Shiro’s eyes scanned the small apartment. It looked cozy and lived-in, if a bit messy.

“Make yourself at home, sugar pie.”

Shiro watched his…boyfriend? It was still a strange thought to be dating someone he felt like he didn’t know. According to everyone they were close, but Shiro couldn’t remember anything. Every time Matt looked at him it was like his eyes were searching Shiro’s soul and they always came up wanting. Shiro almost couldn’t look at him, the pain in his eyes too agonizing to see. He wanted to alleviate it, but…

He didn’t know what to do because Matt was a stranger.

Shiro kicked off his shoes, letting them pile on top of a pair of sneakers. Matt looked at him, eyebrows raised, but Shiro didn’t know why. The silence was stifling, so Shiro moved towards the kitchen.

“Do we have any coffee?”

Matt’s head snapped towards him. “Coffee?”

“Um, yeah,” Shiro trailed off hesitantly, confused about the look in Matt’s eyes.

“You want coffee? You?” Matt frowned, clearly uncertain. After a moment, he shrugged, shuffling over to join Shiro in the kitchen. “You’re still recovering. I’ll make some coffee and bring it out for you.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Shiro said softly, making his way to the living room to sink awkwardly onto the edge of the armchair. He felt like he’d done something wrong, but he wasn’t sure what.

He turned on the television, absently moving to Netflix to check out their shows. He was just selecting some organization show that seemed fitting for his current mindset. Seeing people organize their mess of a house seemed to give him hope that he could fix the mess that was his life.

Matt returned to the living room, pausing when he saw Shiro sitting at the armchair. Something flashed across his eyes, too fast for Shiro to decipher.

He’d messed up again.

Tapping his thigh nervously, Shiro watched as Matt set his coffee cup next to him on the side table. It was a cute mug shaped like a black cat. Shiro wrapped his fingers around it, soaking in the warmth and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. It was like returning home.

Matt hovered awkwardly, watching as Shiro set the cup back down after taking a sip. In the background, Marie Kondo showed a hapless couple how to fold their clothes into tiny cubes. Her voice was strangely soothing.

“I, um, I was thinking maybe I could show you some stuff. See if it jogs your memory?” Matt said hesitantly, shuffling nervously.

“Sure.” Shiro smiled, trying not to get his hopes up. Matt had already shown him pictures from his phone along with all the others, but nothing was really ringing a bell. “I can make something for dinner in a bit too, if you want?”

Matt stopped halfway to the bedroom at Shiro’s words.

“Sounds good,” he said after a moment, an odd tone to his voice that made Shiro pause.

Shiro spent the next hour looking at various items Matt showed him, but nothing was really resonating with him. After awhile, he got up to peruse the fridge and settled on making some spaghetti. Matt had stared at it suspiciously, nervously taking a tentative bite. His eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his hairline as he swallowed the food.

“This is…really good.”

Shiro smiled. “Thank you.”

He didn’t catch Matt’s lips tilt down into a confused frown.

\---------------------------------------------------------

“Oh, oh, oh and this is when you and Matt had to dig through a giant mountain of garbage at the landfill to find the perp’s jacket!”

Shiro smiled at Lance, looking down to stare at the unfamiliar picture. The two of them looked very dirty and exhausted, but the matching aura of pride radiating from them both was unmistakeable. Matt had his arm around Shiro’s shoulders and Shiro was leaning into him, clearly comfortable with the contact.

What had happened to that feeling?

Hunk leaned in, turning his phone so Shiro could see the screen. “Oh man, remember this one? This was one of the first cases Pidge and I did after becoming detectives. We had to hop on this awesome old-school plane that was being used to traffic drugs and-”

Shiro gasped, grabbing the phone excitedly. “That’s a Piper J-3 Cub! It’s a classic!”

The room fell silent as everyone stared at Shiro.

Shiro blinked, slowly lowering his hands. “Uh…it was used in World War II…”

The others continued to stare at him. “It…it’s easier…to fly…”

“I had no idea Shiro was a closet plane otaku.” Lance laughed, slapping Shiro on the shoulder.

The others sniggered and Shiro chuckled nervously, not sure where this knowledge had come from. As he looked around the room, he noticed Matt frowning down at the floor, one of the only ones not laughing. Shiro’s heart sank.

As the others continued to show Shiro more pictures, describing events he just couldn’t remember, Matt got up and quietly left, heading to their balcony and closing the door behind him.

Shiro looked at a few more pictures before detaching himself from the crowd. He headed to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Lance had challenged Keith to a popcorn eating contest and Shiro really didn’t want to be around when they started throwing up.

Coffee in hand, he stepped out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Matt was curled up in one of the rickety chairs, knees drawn up to his chest as he stared out at the stars. Shiro hesitated a moment before quietly sinking into the chair next to him.

“Everything okay?” He asked softly, glancing at the man that was slowly becoming less of a stranger with every passing day.

“I’ll be fine.”

Shiro nodded awkwardly before placing the cup on the tiny table separating them. “I made you some coffee.”

“Thanks.”

Shiro swallowed carefully, looking back out at the stars. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Matt sighed, resting his forehead on his knees. He was silent for so long Shiro was certain he wasn’t going to say anything. To his surprise, Matt’s muffled voice sounded softly. “This really sucks.”

Shiro’s shoulders slumped. He would be lying if he said he didn’t agree. Every day that passed without the return of even a sliver of a memory was disheartening. He felt like he was letting everyone down.

“I know,” he murmured, gripping the arm of his chair. “I don’t have the patience for this.”

Matt’s shoulder’s stiffened. “Patience yields focus,” he said suddenly, turning to look at Shiro, eyes bright with unshed tears.

Shiro blinked at the intensity of his gaze. “Those are wise words. We should probably listen to them. Easier said than done, I guess.”

Something in Matt’s eyes broke, crumbling so fast that Shiro’s own heart clenched in sympathy. After a moment, Matt blinked, and the emotion was locked away.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Matt said, grabbing the cup and taking a giant sip.

“You’re welcome.”

Matt looked over at him, nose wrinkling. “I take it back, this is disgusting.”

“What?”

“How much sugar did you put in this?”

Shiro panicked. “I, uh, just one?”

“Ugh, no wonder! I need double cream and triple sugar!”

Shiro balked at that, staring at Matt incredulously. “How are you not dead?”

“I’m invincible, Shiro.”

They stared at each other for a moment before breaking out into giggles.

Shiro relaxed back into his chair, looking out at the familiar stars. Things were strange right now, but he had to believe that they would get better.

He had to.


	6. Chapter 6

Matt sighed, letting his bag thump onto his desk and sending his monitors wobbling. He was so tired, he could hardly keep his eyes open. The two large cups of McDonald’s coffee were _not_ helping in the slightest.

Shiro was not in yet, starting his shift a bit later today. It was nice to see him back at work, albeit doing limited duties. He still didn’t remember all the rules and regulations of being a police officer, so they couldn’t put him out in the field.

Even still, Matt was…confused.

He should have been happy. He had Shiro back, safe and relatively sound. It was selfish of him to want more than that. But it was still strange. Something Matt couldn’t quite put his finger on. He was so used to sharing a bed with Shiro, to have him suddenly not there when he knew the other man was just in the other room was…wrong. It felt wrong. But it didn’t seem right to sleep with someone who hadn’t even remembered his name let alone the years and years of history they had together.

He couldn’t sleep because his brain wouldn’t shut up that something was off.

Matt groaned, rubbing his hands over his eyes as his computer booted up.

“Holt,” Allura said, stopping next to his desk. “How are you doing locating the Galra?”

Matt frowned behind his hands. They’d been trying to track down the Galra, but lately they always seemed to be one step ahead of them. Shiro couldn’t remember where he’d been held as a prisoner, so they couldn’t take it down. Matt desperately wanted to shut them down for good.

“Nothing yet, Captain.”

Allura sighed, mouth set in a grim line. “Keep me updated.”

Matt gave her a lazy salute as she made her way to her office. He turned back to his computer, intent on checking over some emails.

“Um, excuse me?”

Matt just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. A man had paused next to his desk, nervously fiddling with the edge of a binder he was holding. A random civilian coming to report a crime. Matt had forgotten he was supposed to be doing that.

“Uh, have a seat,” Matt mumbled, gesturing to the chair next to his desk.

The man tentatively lowered himself onto the edge of the rickety chair. Matt sized him up. He was tall, maybe even taller than Shiro. His hair was brown and cut short, a slightly lighter colour than his dark skin. He had kind eyes, but they looked tired. Haunted, even. His clothes looked a bit ragged but well-cared for, like he didn’t have enough money for brand new.

“Are you here to file a report?” Matt asked, rifling through his drawers for his report form.

“I’d like to report a missing person.”

Oh great, another person who had lost a loved one.

“Okay, just a sec, I gotta-there! Right, what’s the date today?”

“Um, June twelfth.”

“Fuck, we’re in June already? Jesus Christ.”

Matt scribbled the date onto the form, filling out his own badge number. He glanced back up at the man. “What’s your name?”

“Curtis.”

“Curtis…?”

“Reid.”

“Alright, and who are you reporting missing?” He asked, noting down the man’s name.

“My husband has been missing for months.”

Matt paused, giving the man another once over. “Why are you only reporting this now?”

“I reported it to our local precinct immediately, but they haven’t had any luck. So, I’ve been travelling across the country to report it in every state.”

Matt’s heart melted into a pile of jiggly goo. He could relate to this man’s determination. “Where are you from?”

“Olkarion.”

Olkarion!? That was on the other side of the country!

“Okay, do you have a picture of your husband?”

Curtis’ back straightened and he quickly pulled open his binder revealing a neatly organized stack of papers. He flipped to the back and pulled out a photo, handing it to Matt. “His name is Ryou.”

“Ryou, is that spelled R-Y-O…” Matt trailed off, staring at the photo in confusion.

That…that was a picture of Shiro! Or at least, an older picture of him. Back when he still had all black hair and no scar on his face. Matt’s heart constricted painfully. What the hell was going on here?

“It has a ‘U’ at the end,” Curtis was saying, pulling out some more photos. One showed Curtis and the Shiro lookalike at the aquarium, Curtis nervously cringing away from the scary shark while Shi-no, _Ryou_ hugged him tightly. Another was at what had to be their wedding. The matching white suits weren’t bright enough to outshine their happy smiles.

Seeing the love in their eyes as flower petals rained around them sent a sharp stab of pain straight into Matt’s heart. He…he wanted that with Shiro and yet, this man seemed to have it already? With some other Shiro, or, what?

Matt narrowed his eyes, getting up from his chair slowly. “What are you playing at?”

Curtis blinked at him in confusion. “I’m sorry? I-”

Matt slammed his fist down on the table, sending the photos flying. Curtis flinched, nervously clutching his binder closer to him. Everyone else in the room paused to stare and it just made Matt even more frustrated.

“What’s going on here?” Allura demanded, stepping out of her office, but Matt didn’t even hear her.

“Who is this man?” He demanded, jabbing his finger at the smiling wedding photo. “When did you meet him?”

“I-I’ve known him since college. We-we were both studying to be pilots.”

How? How was this possible?

“This man-”

Curtis frowned, eyes flashing. “Ryou.”

“ _Ryou_ , does he have any family?”

“I…we don’t know. He was put up for adoption as a baby. His foster parents-”

But Matt tuned him out. Was it possible that Shiro had a twin, a twin named Ryou? It might explain why-

“Matt, I got you some coffee,” A familiar voice said as Shiro slipped through the gate at the front door. “I think I got it right this time, double cream and triple sugar, right?”

Curtis’ eyes had widened at that voice and he was out of his chair in an instant, turning to look at Shiro.

“R-ryou?”

Shiro blinked, pausing in the middle of the precinct as if he’d suddenly been turned into stone. His dark eyes clouded over, like a fog settling over a desolate street in the middle of the night. The coffee he was holding crashed to the floor, spilling hot liquid over the linoleum like a startling blood splatter. He reached for his gun, face blank, lifting it and pointing it at the closest target: Keith.

What-

“Look out!” Pidge gasped, knocking Keith to the ground just in time to save him from being shot right in the face. Romelle screamed, ducking behind her desk.

“Shiro!” Lance leapt at him, intent on taking away the gun, but Shiro was already moving, knocking him to the floor with a brutal pistol whip.

“Stop him!” Someone yelled, but no one seemed inclined to shoot their sergeant.

Matt pushed Curtis to the floor more roughly than he intended, but the other man struggled against him, trying to get to Shiro. Matt stepped over him, raising his hands in surrender as Shiro pointed the gun in his direction.

“Takashi!” Matt bellowed, heart racing. His fingers trembled as he stared into dark eyes devoid of _anything_. No recognition, no remorse, no hesitation.

Shiro’s finger tightened on the trigger and Matt flinched, but there was no bang. Instead, a loud _pop_ echoed across the room accompanied by the hair-raising sound of electricity building in power. Matt felt his skin prickle at the noise, sending a shudder down his spine.

He didn’t like that sound.

Shiro stiffened, gun slipping from his fingers as his body convulsed. A high-pitched whine tore from his throat just before he hit the ground. Behind him, Allura held her taser. Her face had that stoic look she often used when trying to keep her emotions at bay.

After a few agonizing seconds of shocks, Shiro went still.  

“Ryou!”

“Shiro!”

“What is going on? Why did he-”

“He shot at us?”

“Lance-”

“Is he okay?”

“Enough!” Allura’s voice rang through the room, silencing everyone immediately. “Kogane, check on McLain,” she pointed to Pidge and Hunk, “Holt, Garrett, get Shirogane subdued and bring him to the interrogation room.”

Everyone snapped to attention. Keith was beside Lance in an instant, eyebrows scrunched up in worry at the blood trickling from a cut on Lance’s temple. Hunk grabbed Shiro as Pidge moved bits of furniture and other debris out of his path. Matt wanted to go to him, to make sure he was okay. Shiro couldn’t have good memories about tasers either, and surely-

“Holt, bring the civilian,” Allura ordered, marching towards the observation room next to the interrogation room.

The air felt suffocating and heavy, like a wet cloth being draped over his face. Shiro had been about to shoot him. He’d-

He’d almost pulled that trigger.

What was going on here?

\---------------------------------------------------------

He opened his eyes to a bright light.

 _Straps pinned him down beneath a brilliant light. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, unable to scream as the painpainpain seared through him, burning away his sanity. His heart beat so violently he was certain he was_ dying _. No, no, nononono. Voices echoed around him with nothing to connect them to, nothing to show that they weren’t all in his head, drilling into his brain and forcing him to believe things he never otherwise would have. This wasn’t him, they were changing him, they were-_

“Hey, breathe. You’re fine, no one is gonna hurt you.”

At some point he must have squeezed his eyes shut because they snapped open once more. He was in a small, dark room furnished only with a table, two chairs and a large mirror taking up one wall. He was sitting in one of the chairs, hands cuffed together. Across from him sat another man. His long, light brown hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, the shorter strands framing his face. He had a scar on his cheek and his eyes were golden-brown and…sad.

What was going on?

“Who are you? Where am I?”

The man’s lips turned down into a grim frown and something crumbled in his eyes. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I think the right question here is, who are _you_?”

Who was he? That was easy, he was Ry-

Static feedback buzzed through his brain, drowning out everything. His heartbeat skyrocketed directly into panic mode, sending him into a cold sweat. He-he was-

“R-R-Ry…” He couldn’t get it out, couldn’t force the name that felt so _right_ out of his mouth. Pain stabbed through his skull like a searing hot poker. He reached up to his ears to see if they were bleeding, it felt like they were gushing, but his fingers came away dry.

A loud bang echoed as if from far away, voices clamoring over each other, but he couldn’t focus on them.

He was drowning, he was-

Hands gripped his shoulders, grounding him. He opened eyes he hadn’t even realized he’d closed and was met with a pair of familiar blue eyes.

“C-Curtis?”

The fingers tightened on his shoulders. “Ryou…”

Ryou…

Ryou…

Something clicked into place, like a long-lost puzzle piece finally completing the picture. Memories flooded into him, too fast to focus on but one thing remained constant in the sea of pictures. He reached up to cup that familiar face, reveling in the warmth of it.

“ _Curtis_ , I-” Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring that beautiful face he hadn’t seen in so long. He’d missed him _so much_.

Lips pressed into his, gentle but passionate. He pushed up into it, desperate to feel him again.

“Um, ahem.”

They broke apart, blushing. He turned to the other occupants of the room, the man with the ponytail and a striking woman with white hair.

“We’re sorry to interrupt,” the woman said diplomatically. “But we need to understand what happened here.”

Steeling himself, he sat up straighter in his chair. “My name is Ryou Kuronagi and I was kidnapped four months ago.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

Matt paced back and forth as Allura grilled Sh-no, _Ryou_ for as much information as he could provide. What he told them was disturbing.

Matt had heard, seen and experienced horrors most people couldn’t imagine. Victims held captive for years at the whims of their abductor. Bodies found mutilated in a dingy freezer. Children left dead in plastic bags.

Even with that experience, including Shiro’s captivity and his own misfortunes, he’d never come across something like this before.

Ryou had been abducted from the underground parking lot of the airport he and Curtis worked at about four months ago. That was about two months prior to Shiro’s disappearance. Ryou had had no prior dealings with the Galra, but it was clear they were the culprits based off Ryou’s descriptions.

What happened next was straight out of a Hollywood movie. Strapped to a table and drugged out of his mind, the Galra had _brainwashed_ him, forcing him to think of himself as ‘Shiro’, that he needed to infiltrate the APD to gather information to help sabotage any plans against the Galra.

They’d worked on him every day for months, until he was a broken shell of who he used to be before filling him back up with-

“I-I don’t remember most of it, I-” Ryou cut himself off, swallowing thickly. His hands shook enough to rattle his handcuffs. They’d had to keep him in them just to be safe. He’d been set up to attack them, to sabotage their every move.

It had worked.

The Galra had done a number on him, clearly putting a lot of time and effort into controlling him. But they’d underestimated him. Ryou was fighting back.

And now he was going to help them take down the Galra.

“I remember a bright room. I was…strapped to a table and they-” Ryou choked, curling in on himself slightly. “They took my arm…”

Curtis’ fingers tightened around Ryou’s hand, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“Do you remember where their base was?” Allura asked, blue eyes blazing with fury.

Ryou shook his head, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he tried to remember. “I can’t.”

Matt slammed his fist into the door, startling the other occupants of the room. He wrenched the door open forcefully and left, unable to handle the stifling pressure inside. He could hear Allura apologizing for him, but he didn’t care. They needed to find the Galra. Now.

Because Matt’s mind could only focus on one thing.

If this man wasn’t Shiro, then that meant Shiro was still being held captive.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Shiro was screaming.

His eyes snapped open, heart pounding as his screams rose up to ear-shattering heights. He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t move, cold straps digging into his flesh and keeping him still. Bright lights shone down on him, nearly blinding him with their brilliance.

Where-?

“If we increase it any further, it might kill him.”

“Keep trying, Macidus. We have the schematics to rebuild it if we need to. We don’t need his body.”  

Shiro shuddered at that voice, familiar only because of his nightmares. Haggar stood nearby, hovering over him. She smiled when she noticed him looking at her.

“You’ve held up a surprisingly long time, Champion. If you can survive awhile longer, you’ll be rewarded.”

Another man stepped forward, presumably Macidus, some kind of cable in his hand. Haggar moved aside and the man attached something to Shiro’s prosthetic. It wasn’t until then he realized the casing was missing, wires spilling out of it in neat rows.

What-

No, Matt had made that for him. It was-

Shiro struggled against his bonds to no avail as the strange man turned to his computer, tapping out some kind of command.

Shiro kicked frantically, but the restraints refused to give, not allowing him to put the proper amount of force behind it. Pain seared through his arm, burning hot, like liquid lava being poured into his bones, burning him from the inside out. He continued to scream, high-pitched and pained, tearing his throat apart with every cry.

He couldn’t move, the agony so great his muscles clenched, like they wanted to flee but didn’t know how to do it. Black spots danced across his vision as the pain intensified, well beyond what Shiro thought he could take.

Shiro was going to die here.

All at once the burning stopped but the pain lingered, as if his skin was still melting away and sloughing off onto the ground. Tears fell unheeded down his cheeks, pooling on the cold metal of the table and soaking into his hair. He trembled, muscles jerking as Haggar inspected his prosthetic curiously.

“Amazing.”

Shiro moaned as she turned the hand this way and that, heedless of the pain every tiny movement caused him. After a moment she set it down, turning to give Shiro a cold smile.

“Congratulations, Champion.”

Through the haze of pain and delirium, Shiro’s mind quaked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd really love to know your thoughts on this chapter, for anyone that has a moment to spare. :) Was it a surprise?
> 
> There's only one more chapter to go! We're almost there!


	7. Chapter 7

Ryou stared solemnly at the photo of Sergeant Takashi Shirogane. His brother. DNA testing had proven to him once and for all that he was _not_ Shiro. He was Ryou Kuronagi and even after two weeks of memories slowly filtering in, the thought still sent his heart into a minor panic. Before, he wasn’t allowed to think of himself as Ryou, and ignoring the programmed response to it was still…

It was challenging.

Therapy was helping, but it was slow going. At least now he wasn’t attacking people randomly for no other reason than that he was programmed to.

“He looks a lot like you,” Curtis murmured, resting his chin on Ryou’s shoulder.

“I never knew I had a brother, let alone a twin. I…” Ryou trailed off with a soft sigh.

“You’ve gone a long time without family. It’s probably shocking to realize you’ve had one all along.”

Ryou turned, pressing a kiss to Curtis’ lips. “ _You’re_ my family, always.”

Curtis smiled, hand cupping the side of Ryou’s face. “Still, you want to meet him.”

Ryou closed his eyes, letting his head rest on Curtis’ forehead, just sharing the moment with him. He was his guiding light after all of this darkness and Ryou loved him so, so much. “I want to help them find him. It’s…it wasn’t a nice place, babe. I-”

Ryou paused, letting his fingers dig into Curtis’ shirt. The idea that someone else was out there, going through that…

“I need to help, in any way I can.”

“I’m right there with you.”

Ryou’s heart soared, warmth swimming through his veins. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to God, dude, I heard the Champion has been out of commission for the last week and a half.”

Matt sighed, rubbing his temples. “And you’re sure you don’t know where they’re holding these cage fights? I need more than this, Bogh.”

He’d come to this tiny alleyway to speak to one of his informants. Bogh was one of those criminals that liked the _idea_ of crime but was too afraid to really sink his teeth into it. That meant he was usually on the periphery of many crimes but never in deep enough to get in trouble.

“Well, maybe I could-” Bogh cut himself off, eyes widening in fear.

Matt whirled, gun in hand, pointing it directly at-

“Myzax,” Matt snarled, eyes narrowing in hate.

Bogh squeaked in terror, taking off down the alley and disappearing over the fence.

Myzax held his hands up in surrender. He looked like he’d seen better days. He was now sporting a wicked scar above his left eye. He was somehow bigger than he was before, and his right ear looked like a chunk of it had been bitten off.

“Don’t shoot.”

Matt shot him in the knee.

Myzax collapsed to the dirty ground, blood trickling from between the fingers clutching his knee. “Ow, _fuck_ , you fucking _shot_ me!”

“Self-defence.”

“Self-” Myzax cut himself off with a groan. “Are you serious?”

“If you don’t start talking, the next shot will be the last.”

“I have information on Shirogane.”

Matt’s heart stopped. Time seemed to slow to a halt as his brain processed the words. After a moment he frowned, tightening his grip on the gun.

“Liar.”

“It’s true,” Myzax hissed, pushing himself to his feet and using the wall as support. He wisely kept his distance. “I was in there with him. We attempted an escape. I made it out but he-”

Matt growled, ferocious and deadly as he shoved Myzax further into the wall, pressing his gun right up under the taller man’s chin. “I hope you weren’t about to say you left him behind, you fucking-”

“I had no choice!”

“You always have choice!”

Myzax swallowed thickly and Matt’s gun bobbed with the motion. “He was unconscious. The guards were just around the corner. I couldn’t fucking carry him, dude is jacked!”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot your ugly face.”

“I can tell you how to get to him.”

Matt stared into those eyes, eyes that had sparkled gleefully as he beat Matt’s father half to death and ripped Matt’s fingernails from his hands. He wanted to see them lifeless. But…

Shiro.

Matt stepped back, gun still trained on the former Galra member. “Start talking.”

Myzax kept his hands up. “There’s this guy, Macidus. He’s been working for them real recently. They let him experiment on the prisoners. He and Haggar created quintessence that way.”

Matt gestured for him to continue.

“Since I escaped from them, security will be at an all-time high, at least until they change locations. You need to act fast if you want a chance to stop them. Normally, all high-ranking Galra members stay within headquarters, but I heard Macidus is different.”

“We’ve been trying to track him down for months now with little success.”

“Macidus is just his street name. His real name is Chris Diamantopoulos. That should be enough to help you find him. He will have all the information you need to sneak into headquarters.”

Matt stared into Myzax eyes, searching for the lie.

If he was lying, Matt couldn’t tell.

“If you’re lying to me, I will punch you in the dick with a cactus.”

Myzax looked so confused. “Um…okay?”

“That’s what a I thought,” Matt smirked, pushing away from Myzax to pull out his phone.

It was time to pay Macidus a visit.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Matt groaned, struggling to open eyes heavy with fatigue. He was in a tiny room, dark and windowless, too small for him to stretch out his legs.

This…

This looked familiar.

Sluggishly, he reached for his head, but his hands wouldn’t move, stuck to the wall with shackles. The room spun around him, threatening to make him lose his lunch. What was wrong with him? His thoughts kept trickling through his head like water through fingers, unable to grasp them fully.

How did he get here?

Wasn’t he going after Macidus?

 Shit. The last thing he could remember was getting out of his car in front of Macidus' house. Had...had he been attacked?

He was floating, heart thumping sluggishly against his ribcage. He felt like he could fly away if he could just unshackle his wrists.

“Welcome, detective.”

Matt’s head flopped to the side, squinting up at the blurry figure silhouetted against a bright light. That voice sounded familiar.

“I do hope you are enjoying your new accommodations. Consider it an…in-depth glimpse into the life of the Champion.”

Champion? That was-

“Sh’ro…” he slurred, blinking slowly.

The figure stepped closer, bending down. Soft hair brushed against Matt’s forehead. It felt like feathers.

“Another failed attempt at saving him. But you’re used to that aren’t you?” The figure chuckled, voice smooth and confident. “He’s been a wonderful guest for us. My mother has had, shall we say, a fascinating time with him. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

No…wait…

That was…

Lotor. Matt was…

The thought slipped away as the figure stepped back.

“I wonder how you will fare in the cage?” His visitor murmured, darkness steadily taking over the bright light as the door closed with a loud clang.

Cage…

Fighting…

Shiro…

\---------------------------------------------------------

Matt stared around the room as he was led into the cage for the first time. The crowd was loud, the sounds reverberating in his head worse than any concert he’d ever been to. Seeing them so amped up for blood was surreal, like watching a documentary about a war that had happened decades ago. He knew people could be evil and violent, but it was still shocking to actually _see_.

The cage was bigger than he expected, the walls climbing all the way up to the ceiling. It had multiple levels, all reachable by a variety means such as ladders, stairs and chain link fences. He could see various potential traps dotting the cage, but none of them currently appeared to be active.

Sweat slicked up his palms as one of the guards handed him a crowbar. How in the hell was he supposed to fight with _this_?

He just needed to get through this fight and see if he could find any information on Shiro. Whatever he had to do to find him, he would.

The guards closed the gate behind him with a clang, locking it up tightly. Matt didn’t pay attention. There were some guns set up in each corner of the cage. Two looked like regular machine guns but the other two looked like flamethrowers.

He’d heard Shiro talk about some of his experiences in here. It was disturbing to actually see it all himself.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to another exciting match!” An announcer proclaimed, causing the crowd to roar with anticipation. “Today we have a new challenger for our Champiooooonnnnn!”

Matt’s heart stopped.

What?

No.

Please.

Across from him the gate opened, and Matt watched in dawning horror as Shiro was shoved into the ring. He stumbled, nearly falling on his face, but he managed to stop himself by clinging to the chain link fence surrounding them. He had no weapon in his hands, but it was clear even from this distance that he was drugged out of his mind.

“The challenger has won the luck of the draw today! He gets to face the Champion without any inhibiting drugs and with a weapon!”

The crowed ooh’d and ahh’d, clearly enraptured by the increased difficulty. Was this going to be the moment that the Champion finally fell? Or would he reign supreme once more and live to fight again and again and again.

Matt wanted to be sick.

These people, they were disgusting. Sitting there and betting on human lives as if they weren’t _people_ with families and friends who cared about them. This wasn’t some game, this was real people dying at the hands of greed and bloodlust.

“Let the fight commence!”

There was a loud ding, but Matt barely heard it. He couldn’t take his eyes off Shiro. His boyfriend. His best friend. The man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Shiro struggled to pull himself up into a standing position, swaying gently as he let go of the fence. He seemed confused and lethargic, but this didn’t seem to concern the audience. They called out to him, some encouraging, some disparaging, but all together in their malicious intent.

Shiro’s eyes landed on Matt, but he was too far away from him to tell if he recognized him behind the fog of drugs.

Matt stepped towards him, holding on to his crowbar in slick hands. Shiro looked exhausted with every step Matt took, standing eerily still like a predator waiting for its prey to come closer.

Matt’s heart quivered.

He stopped a few feet from him, swallowing carefully. “Shiro…”

Shiro blinked slowly, eyes struggling to focus.

“Shiro.”

Something seemed to click in his head. He took a step towards Matt, then another, and another. Did he recognize him? Did he-

Matt’s eyes widened as Shiro’s prosthetic hand went flat and rigid, suddenly lighting up in a bright purple glow even as he cried out in pain. Matt didn’t remember including _that_ feature when he built it.

The crowd went wild.

Alarm bells went off in Matt’s head, warning him to _move_. He jumped to the side just in time to dodge Shiro’s lightning fast hand. It grazed the side of his arm and Matt winced as searing hot fire licked into his skin.

“Shiro!”

Shiro pivoted on his foot, kicking at Matt in an instant. Matt batted it aside with the crowbar, grimacing as the shock reverberated up his arm.

He didn’t want to hurt him.

Shiro bounced into the fence, using it to propel himself back at Matt. His hand flashed purple once more, buzzing with power as it swiped at Matt’s face, fingers curled into claws. Matt just barely managed to duck in time, the stench of burning hair choking him. Fuck, he was getting faster. Were the drugs wearing off?

“Shir-”

The air was knocked right out of his lungs as Shiro’s knee sunk into his stomach. Matt crashed to the floor, gasping. Without thinking he raised his crowbar to block an attack that was surely coming. The impact jolted through his bones, but the crowbar held firm. Shiro pressed down on him, smoke searing from between his fingers and the crowbar as it slowly melted through it. Sparks of fiery ash charred Matt’s skin, threatening to burn into his eyes.

He had to stop this.

The crowbar snapped and Shiro’s hand plunged forward, palm flat against Matt’s chest, right by his heart. It burned through his flimsy shirt in seconds, scorching into his skin with fire. Matt cried out, the pain agonizing, but he wasn’t about to give up on him. Not now, not _ever_.

If he didn’t stop Shiro he was going to die and that would be it. It would break Shiro to the point that he could never be fixed.

He couldn’t let that happen.

He wasn’t going to let it.

He reached up and, instead of pushing away the hand melting his flesh, he gently cupped Shiro’s face.

“ _Takashi_.”

Shiro froze, eyes widening in shock. For the first time it seemed he was actually _seeing_ Matt, confusion and horror warring with lethargy in his brown eyes. Shiro jerked back, hand sputtering once, twice before going out completely.

Matt sucked in a pained breath, chest heaving as the handprint imprinted on his skin continued to eat away at him. Fuck, it _hurt_.

The crowd roared their disapproval, some of them on their feet. Fuck them. Matt couldn’t care less about their ruined entertainment.

“Matt…” Shiro croaked, voice broken, like he’d swallowed a cup of razor blades.

Matt rolled onto his side, slowly pushing himself to all fours. He looked up at Shiro.

Only to see the floor beneath him flash red.

Matt dived for him, ignoring the agony in his chest, heart racing. He wasn’t going to lose him. Not now.

Matt barreled into Shiro clumsily, just in time for them to escape the spikes bursting up from the floor. They rolled, Matt coming to a stop just at the north-eastern corner of the ring, smashing his head into the chain link fence. Before he could reorient himself, Shiro grabbed his ankle, yanking him away from the wall. The hair-raising buzz of electricity sounded a second later, sizzling with enough power that the lights flickered.

Shit. That was close.

Shiro had told Matt about the various traps of the arena, but he hadn’t expected them to be like this. They were popping up so fast it was only a matter of time until one of them got caught. Matt scrambled to his feet reaching for Shiro. Shiro pulled him in and they pressed together back-to-back so they could see the whole arena.

Thick, plastic walls started to raise all around the arena, creating box that reminded Matt of a-

“Move up!” Shiro yelled, grabbing Matt’s hand and running for the nearest stairs leading to an upper platform.  

Just as they reached the first step, water started gushing into the cage at an alarming rate and the crowd lost its mind in its excitement at this new turn.

The water was rising faster than they could climb. Already it was lapping at their ankles, the cold water soaking through their flimsy spandex clothes in seconds.

“Keep going!” Shiro ordered, practically tossing Matt up to the next platform.

Matt grunted with the impact but quickly braced himself and reached down, letting Shiro use his arm as leverage to climb up to join him. They kept going, scaling ladders, ropes and steps to get to the top.

Just as they reached the open top, another clear plastic wall slid out, covering it.

There was no escape, the water was rising, and if that didn’t kill them, the lack of oxygen eventually would.

Matt shivered, eyes scanning the area for any potential escape routes. Beside him, Shiro shook with the remnants of the drug, eyes darting all over the place frantically, likely doing the same. The water was pouring in at an alarming rate from large tube to Shiro’s right. Matt considered it, mind racing. Above them he could see all sorts of automated weapons: flamethrowers, guns and-

Oh.

Maybe-

No. No, that was crazy.

If it worked, it would be a fucking fantastic show.

The water was up to their calves now, time to shit or get off the pot.

Matt snatched up Shiro’s prosthetic hand, inspecting it. “Is this strong enough to burn through the walls?”

Shiro looked at him, frowning. Matt jerked his head at the water tube and then at the weapons. Shiro considered them briefly. “No. No way. That’s crazy.”

The man was psychic.

Matt loved it.

“Crazy like a fox!” 

Shiro sighed, looking down at his hand and clenching it into a fist. “I don’t know if it will work but might as well give it a shot.”

Matt pressed a kiss to Shiro’s shoulder. “We don’t have many options, my delicious bonbon.”

Shiro’s shoulder’s untensed as he gave Matt a small smile.

The water was up to Matt’s waist now. Shiro turned and pushed himself off the platform, swimming towards the edge as fast as he could. When he reached it, he took a huge gulp of breath before disappearing underwater. Matt could just make out the purple glow as his hand lit up.

Matt’s feet left the platform as the water rose up high enough that he was floating. He struggled to tread water as the fast current threatened to send him into a spiral. Shiro came back up for air with a gasp, pushing his hair from his face.

“Is it working!?” Matt yelled, head touching the ceiling of the cage.

Shiro gave him a thumbs up before diving down once more.

Matt could see the audience staring at them in anticipation. They were waiting there, ready to watch them drown.

Shiro came back up once more, panting. He looked really pale. Clearly the arm took a lot out of him whenever he used it.

The water crawled up Matt’s neck, then his chin. He tilted his head, pressing it up as far as he could manage. Closing his eyes, Matt took a gulp of breath just as the water covered his entire face.

Sound became muted as he drifted in the water. He opened his eyes, but all he could see was the chain link fencing above him. Trapping him. He gripped onto it, using it to crawl along the top towards what he hoped was the nearest weapon. When looked down, he could just make out the purple glow of Shiro.

Matt’s heart pounded in terror.

What if-

What if this was it?

What if Shiro couldn’t cut through that wall? What if they drowned here, not even able to say I love you one last time?

Matt’s throat burned with desperation, clawing at him and begging for breath. He struggled against it, little bursts of bubbles escaping as he fought the instinct to breathe.

Shiro…

Darkness circled the edges of his vision. He was so tired.

Shiro…

His lungs twitched painfully, frantic for air. He needed…he needed to-

Oxygen, sweet, precious oxygen flooded into him. He coughed, clinging to the chain link ceiling as the water receded around him. Sound returned all at once, the echo of screams reverberating around the room as the spectators were drenched in water.

He didn’t hang around to watch, instead turning to the weapon above him. His fingers felt along the mechanism. Surely it could be removed, otherwise it would be difficult to repair-there!

Matt found a small button at the back of the base and the weapon came loose after some finagling. Matt rushed to the nearest platform as the water continued to drain out. Shiro had managed to get about halfway down the wall when he cut it. That was a lot of water pouring on a bunch of Galra spectators.

Water was about to be the least of their concerns.

Matt helped pull Shiro up onto his platform. He looked as exhausted as Matt felt, shivering in the cold and from the lingering pain of his prosthetic. After a moment he surveyed the chaos. People were running frantically from the water, but there was so much it had filled up the room in knee deep water. Matt watched gleefully as the water damaged a mechanism of some kind, causing one of the walls to sink down and allowing even more water to crash into the spectators. Haggar herself struggled against it, snapping out orders to some of her guards but it was too fucking late.  

Matt gripped onto Shiro’s hand, entwining their fingers together.

“Hey, assbutts!” he called out, lifting the weapon up high. “Pika-fucking-chu!”

Shiro put his face in his free hand, shaking his head.

The weapon hummed with power as it went off, shooting out a metal wire jam packed with electricity. It landed in the water with a quiet plop.

Shiro and Matt were safe up on their platform, but the rest of the room didn’t have the luxury.

Electricity arched across the water, sending everyone in contact with it into fits of shocks. People screamed, twitched, fell into the water. Haggar herself collapsed, seizing in the water with enough force to cause tiny waves.

When the electricity died down, most of the people in the room where either passed out or struggling in the water.  

In the midst of all the chaos, someone yelled out over a microphone.

“EVERYBODY DOWN, THIS IS THE FBI!”

“Late to the party, as always,” Matt sighed, watching as a bunch of uniformed men and women poured into the room, rifles in hand. “Hey, Shiro-pon, how are we gonna get dow-”

Matt was cut off as Shiro gripped his face, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. It didn’t take him long to get with the program, pressing up against Shiro and wrapping his arms around his waist. Shiro kissed him like his life depended on it and Matt couldn’t say he felt any differently. After an eternity they both pulled back, breathless, soaking up the warmth of each other as the FBI rounded up the unconscious Galra below them.

“You found me again,” Shiro whispered, pressing a kiss to Matt’s soaked hair.

“Always,” Matt murmured, fingers tightening in Shiro’s shirt.

Something sparked brightly on the floor and Matt gripped onto Shiro as the platforms started to lower down to the ground. The mechanism controlling the arena was probably completely destroyed by the water. Matt couldn’t help but be delighted by that. Good riddance, if he did say so himself.

As they neared the ground, Matt scanned the remaining Galra.

“Shiro, where’s-”

Before he could finish, Shiro jerked away from him with a choked off gasp. Matt whirled, only to see Hagger with her arm wrapped around Shiro, gun pressed firmly to his head. She looked much worse for wear, her hair messy and dishevelled and her clothes wet and wrinkled. Her hand shook from the aftershocks of the electricity, but the gun was a threat that couldn’t be ignored.

Matt’s heart pounded in his chest frantically as he stared into her cold eyes.

Haggar’s nails dug into Shiro’s chest as she took a step back. “I won’t hurt him if you let me go.”

Matt didn’t believe a word coming out of her mouth. She could tell him the sky was blue and he’d call her a liar.

“Enough,” Shiro growled, gripping the butt of the gun with his prosthetic. It glowed a bright purple, buzzing with power as the heat seared through the metal even as he groaned in pain at the sensation.

Haggar cried out, dropping the burning hot gun and stepping back unconsciously, hand to her chest.

Matt was pulling Shiro closer before Haggar could have a chance to retaliate, soothing a hand down Shiro’s back as Haggar turned and ran for it.

“Stop!” One of the FBI agents demanded but she kept going, running towards one of the side doors.

“Mother!” A familiar voice called out and Matt saw Lotor burst through the door she was heading towards.

The FBI agent trained his gun on the new threat.

BANG!

Matt watched in shock as Haggar pushed Lotor through the door, taking the shot that was meant for him right in her back. She collapsed forward into heap on the floor, suddenly seeming much smaller than her usual imposing figure.

“Mother!”

“Go!” Haggar screamed.

The FBI agent raised his gun once more. Lotor’s eyes met Matt’s briefly, anger and hatred simmering brightly in his irises before he turned on his heel and ran through the door.

No.

No, he wasn’t letting them get away.

Matt stepped forward, intent on taking off after Lotor, but Shiro was sagging against him, clearly exhausted.

“Stop him!”

“Matt!” Hunk was beside him, helping support Shiro with his bulk. “I got him, go!”

Where in the world-?

“C’mon!” Keith snapped, grabbing Matt’s hand and shoving a gun into it. Matt glanced at Shiro.

“Go get ‘im, love muffin,” Shiro grinned tiredly, echoing Matt’s words from what felt like ages ago.

Matt needed no more encouragement, turning on his heel to run after Keith. Up ahead, Pidge and Lance were handcuffing Haggar. She moaned as Keith and Matt tore past them, and satisfaction seared through Matt’s veins. Still alive. Good. She needed to answer for her crimes.

“Hurry!” Keith yelled and, fuck, he was so damn fast. Give a guy a break.

Matt could see Lotor’s white hair up ahead, a shining bright beacon calling to him. They raced after him, feet pounding loudly down the empty hallway. Keith tried to shoot at him, but Lotor ducked down a side hallway at the last second. Sparks lit up the ceiling as the bullet ricocheted off a metal pipe.

This new hallway was dark, lit only by the dim purple lights Matt was beginning to get accustomed to. A door at the far end burst open, sending a blinding blast of bright light searing into his retinas.

Before they could reach the door there was a loud clanging noise and the sound of something falling to the ground.

“Did I get him?” A voice asked, sounding nervous.

“I think so.”

“Hit him again, just in case.”

Matt and Keith burst out into the sunlight, guns ready.

Lotor was sprawled unceremoniously on the ground, completely unconscious. Above him, Ryou and Curtis stood like two school kids caught skipping class. Ryou was flexing his prosthetic fist and Curtis was holding…a frying pan?

“Why are you two here?” Keith asked, frowning. “You’re civilians, you shouldn’t be here.”

Matt looked between them, eyebrows raised in reluctant admiration. “Nice job.”

Curtis and Ryou puffed up at the praise.

“All in a day’s work,” Curtis said gruffly, trying to look cool.

“Aaaand you ruined it.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

Shiro looked up from his hospital bed at the soft knock on his door.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” his twin said from the doorway, shuffling nervously.

Shiro clutched his blanket anxiously. “Ah, it’s nothing. Come on in.”

Ryou stepping inside, closing the door behind him gently. He hovered near the door for a moment before moving towards the chair next to Shiro’s bed.

There was an awkward silence as the two of them nervously looked around the room. After an agonizing minute or two, Shiro decided to speak up.

“I’m so sorry,” he said at the same time as Ryou.

They both paused, staring at each other in surprise.

“Why?” they both said simultaneously.

There was a moment of silence before they both broke out into quiet chuckles.

“I guess we are twins,” Ryou smiled, looking over at Shiro hesitantly.

“Must be a family trait.”

The atmosphere in the room settled into something more like companionable silence as opposed to the stifling awkwardness it was before. Shiro looked him up and down. Ryou had been through a lot. Shiro could acknowledge that he felt like it was his fault. His therapist was trying to remind him that he had no control over the situation, and he knew that, logically. It didn’t really help him emotionally, though.

“How much longer are you stuck here for?” Ryou asked, smoothing out the edge of Shiro’s blanket against the bed.

“Another week or so. Just to make sure that I won’t relapse.”

Going through rehab again somehow seemed far worse now than the first time. Perhaps it was because he’d spent much of his time unconscious when he’d gone through it initially. Regardless, he hadn’t let it win before and he wasn’t about to let it win again.

“You won’t.”

Shiro smiled at Ryou, warmed by his certainty. He looked so much like him, right down to the scar on his nose and the prosthetic on his arm. Knowing they must have cut him up themselves so that he would match Shiro was horrifying, and Shiro swallowed down the guilt as best he could.

“Lotor and Haggar are in prison, awaiting trial for all their crimes.”

Shiro’s lips turned down into a grim frown as he nodded. The news should have made him happier, but instead he was just tired. Even if they were convicted and sent away for the rest of their lives, he would always live in constant fear that they would escape and take away everything he held dear.

“I’m sorry you had to go through what you did,” Ryou said softly, looking down at his hands.

Shiro blinked, surprised. “It’s not your fault. If anyone should be sorry-”

“It’s not either of our faults,” Ryou sighed, clenching his fists. “Maybe one day we’ll believe it.”

Shiro nodded slowly. “Maybe.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, the only sound the quiet beeping of Shiro’s heart monitor.

“I’ve always wanted a family,” Shiro said, eventually. He glanced over at Ryou. “Matt and the Holts are family to me, but…”

“I know what you mean.”

“I-” Shiro cut himself off, feeling awkward. Was it okay for him to ask this? He didn’t know what the protocol was in this situation. He didn’t want to be rude. “I…I’d like to be your brother. If that’s something you would want.”

Ryou leaned forward, grabbing Shiro’s hand and giving it a tight squeeze.

“I’d love that.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

_1 month later_

“What’s the diagnosis?”

Shiro watched as Matt frowned, squinting down at Shiro’s prosthetic arm as he fiddled with the components. “I’m sorry to say that you’ve come down with a serious case of being too damn sexy.”

Shiro’s shoulder’s shook as he held back a laugh. “I should have known. How much time have I got left, doctor?”

Matt leaned back in his chair, putting on his best professional look. It was marred almost instantly by his smarmy grin. “You need the D. Vitamin D, I mean.”

Shiro snorted, ducking his head. “I thought I was lacking in vitamin U?”

“That too,” Matt agreed without missing a beat. He leaned back over Shiro’s arm, using a tiny screwdriver to make more adjustments. “You were right to come to me. I can help you with both of these deficiencies.”

“My hero.”

“What can I say,” Matt grinned, smacking the panel shut and securing it closed with the screwdriver. He got up from his own chair, settling himself in Shiro’s lap with his arms wrapped around his neck. “I’m the best.”

“I can’t argue with that logic,” Shiro said, pressing forward for a languid kiss.

Matt squirmed in his lap as Shiro ran his hands down his sides, slipping his left hand underneath his shirt to scratch lightly at his back. Matt hummed into the kiss, deepening it further as he tilted Shiro’s head back. Shiro had missed this. He’d missed Matt’s constant chatter, the way he would tease Shiro with all his stupid pet names. The feel of his skin against Shiro’s and the softness of his hair.

He’d missed Matt.

Matt wiggled out of his shirt, tossing it uncaringly behind him as his hands dug into Shiro’s hair, tilting his head to just the right angle, sucking on his lower lip. Shiro arched into it with a groan, hands sliding up to-

He paused as his hand brushed against puckered skin. Matt pulled away slightly with a frown, before he followed Shiro’s gaze.

“Shiro…”

Shiro let his hand settle on the handprint seared into Matt’s skin. It fit his hand perfectly, a bundle of scar tissue to forever remind Shiro of his failu-

“Don’t you dare.”

Shiro blinked away tears, looking up at Matt. “Matt.”

“No, it wasn’t your fault, do you understand me?” Matt leaned in closer so Shiro was forced to look into his eyes. “It wasn’t.”

Shiro tried to move his hand away, fearful he was hurting him, but Matt gripped his wrist, holding his hand in place.

“This mark is yours, meaning _I_ am yours,” Matt said softly, brushing his fingers along Shiro’s metallic knuckles. “And this,” he paused, layering his hand over Shiro’s prosthetic and entwining their fingers together. “Is my mark on you.”

Shiro’s heart pounded furiously, breath catching as Matt lifted their hands to place a kiss on their conjoined fingers.

Shiro pressed a light kiss to Matt’s lips, trailing them along his jaw and down his neck. He wanted to kiss every part of him, map out his body with love and mark every memory with affection.

Matt tilted his head back, knees tightening around Shiro’s hips as he sucked on the tender skin of his throat.

“You’ve always been there for me, Matt, through everything,” he murmured into soft skin, free hand pulling Matt closer.

Matt laughed breathlessly. “That’s rich, coming from you. Who’s the one that’s saved _me_ a million times?”

Shiro chuckled, reaching for something in his pocket that Keith had helped him retrieve. “We’re here for each other, then. Always and, I hope, forever?”

Matt frowned, leaning back slightly so he could see Shiro’s face. “Of course…I…” he trailed off as his eyes landed on the ring in Shiro’s hand.

“Matt, will you marry me?”

Matt gaped at him. The longer it lasted the more worried Shiro got. When he still hadn’t answered him after a full minute, Shiro swallowed nervously. “Matt?”

Matt bent over, reaching into one of his tool drawers and pulling out a box. Shiro blinked in shock as Matt pulled out a ring of his own, holding it up for Shiro’s inspection. “Only if you marry me too.”

They both burst into laughter. Of course, they would both try to propose to each other. As they both shakily slid rings onto each other’s fingers, Shiro pulled Matt closer as he leaned in, lips meeting in a searing kiss. Matt pressed Shiro into the cushions of the chair, tongue mapping out every contour of Shiro’s mouth with precision, fuck, it felt so good.

“Let’s go to the bedroom. Right. Now.” Matt demanded.

Shiro wrapped his arms around his thighs before he could get up, standing up and carrying him bodily towards the bedroom as Matt laughed.

They had a lot of time to make up for, but that was okay.

They’d both said forever.

They had plenty of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, thanks for sticking with me through another fic in this series! I hope you all enjoyed it and I think there will be one more main installment for this, but it likely won't be out for awhile yet since I'm working on two big bang fics right now. 
> 
> I'm really excited that I got to get Kuron in here and I promise the next installment will have Matt and Shiro together the entire time. No one is getting kidnapped. Maybe. Okay, I can't promise. :P I don't have much of a plot yet so I guess I can't really say. If there's anything you'd really like to see in the next installment, let me know! But I hope you enjoy it anyway once it comes out!

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to talk to me about Voltron on [Tumblr](http://eilera-chan.tumblr.com/). :)


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